The Nightwatch Affair : The God within the Machine
by Tharagon
Summary: Prejudice never shows much reason. In the aftermath of a fifth Nuclear war, the world is reeling. As a new order rises from the ash, a new threat must be faced and Motoko Kusanagi, with a new job and a new squad, must decide wether she's human, or machine
1. Opening Volley

**I thought it best if I included this before anyone read any further.**

**The characters of Section 9, technology, the philosophical ideas and moral ideals introduced in Stand Alone Complex 1 and 2 are all solely the creation of Shirow Masamune. Bandai and Production IG hold the rights to the Anime and so on an so forth.**

**The Characters of the Nightwatch, prototypes, gadgets and gizmo's, personalities are solely of my own creation. All quotes used are either made myself or taken from historical texts and films. The ODIN virus and the Mira file are, as well, my own creation.**

**I created this rather Nightmarish idea of reality and unique storyline (it has no reflection of the SAC series or anyone elses Fanfiction) as influenced by my own overactive imagination and slightly technophobic views. I am not trying to gain monetary and material gain just trying to let people see what I can come up with.**

**This is GITS, SAC introduced to a completely new idea built up inside my own imagination, therefore they qualify, though only slightly, as a Fan Fiction**

**And because I'm that insecure I wrote this disclaimer. **

**Tharagon a.k.a Iron Horse Industries**

* * *

Angeli i demoni kruzhili nado mnoj  
Rassekali ternii i mlechnye puti  
Ne znaet schast'ya tol'ko tot  
Kto ego zova ponyat ne smog

_Angels and demons were circling above me  
Cutting thorns and Milky Way  
Don't know happiness from  
Who knew it but couldn't give it_

Nalybuites' nalyubuites  
Aeria gloris, Aeria gloris  
Nalybuites' nalyubuites  
Aeria gloris, aeria gloris

_Watch in awe  
Watch in awe  
Aeria gloris  
Aeria gloris_

(Inner Universe)

* * *

The world has very visibly changed. In previous years, 6 to be accurate, the world which Motoko once occupied has gone. Born in the fire storm of 15 nuclear war heads, the human race finds itself in a new world, a new problem. In 2034, after the events of the Solid State Society, Motoko Kusanagi returned to Section 9 and in the six months which followed, worked and lived.

In 2034, mid summer, a pro-synthetic TV station was blown up by a terrorist group known as the Peoples Liberation Army, an entirely Organic group trying to get a fair view of organics. Seeing as in the past years the Organic Republic had had a rather cool relationship with Japan and America over its rather technophobe view of Cyberisation and the Black Op group known as the Nightwatch which worked covertly to undermine synthetic economies across the globe. The balance was already tipping when, on new Year's Day, in the verge of 3035, the Organic Navy launched a prototype Beam weapon into the outer atmosphere, capable of striking anywhere on the entire earth and missile defense grid over the Organic republic.

At September of 2035, the fifth world war was declared.....

It is 2040...

* * *

"This is Field Commander Ryeman....things are getting a little hairy down here.....DAMN!!!!! MO.......crrrrk......KO.....there's bits of her everywhere....pull back...we can't....krrrk.....someone help her......"

* * *

The small flower, a single blue point of colour, stark amongst the black earth and ash seems to fill my head, its tiny blue petals twitching, crystalline and shimmering beside the cold flesh of my cheek. The cold snow brushes my cheek as around me, the wreckage of old androids lie, bleeding, dead or dying, their metal chassis broken. There are humans too, black clad, faces of death which pass me by in the black.

From my pain wracked body, its pale flesh is scattered about me, my shell, shattered and broken. There's blood in my throat...

* * *

_Oh God, i don't.....there's blood in my throaterror/load MotokoKusanagi/failure:Crrrrrrk/helpmehelpmehelpme.....mainsystemfailure__.......Batou....... __////failuretoreboot/////Mirafileloading....failed50%///////FILECORRUPT.......ERROR//////ODIN......ICANNOTESCAPEFROMMYPASTOURMYFUTURE/////ERROR///.....crrrkWHOAMI/// DIEDIEDIEDIEDIE/////error....///death///......shellcompromised/////error////remaincalm....youareexperiencingasystemmalfunction/////errrorrr_

* * *

In the dark earth, the snow falling from the pitch black sky, the empty husks of buildings and ruins glared down. Among the ash, the cold snow and sleet, the black mud swallowing the pale skin of the the remnants of the woman who lay, scattered in a pool of black fluid and blood, illuminated by the beams of light from passing soldiers. In that pain filled darkness, as the snow fell and the new, cold and dark world turned as ever, there is a scent in the air. Something is about to change....

* * *

"Target Retrieval complete...Command that is an affirmative"

"Roger that Alpha Squad. Is the Operation...."

"Fubar. We're pulling out."

"I'm reading red lights across the board, I'm picking up no life signs."

"Miss!! Miss!! Can you hear me?"

"Hold on, we're almost back..."

* * *

_'I shall not fail that rendezvous' _

* * *

///////crrrk.....////error...../I had a doll once, my body was clumsy and sluggish....crrrrk.....i broke it......i cried////crrrrkerror......loadingerror/////

The Nightwatch Affair : God Within the Machine.....loaded//////......................COMPLETE


	2. The Red Pill

_This focuses on the creation of 'fake' realitys. Hence the Matrix 'red pill' reference. As this is actually a dream the mysterious character still keeps reality, or 'the truth' as Morpheus puts it, at bay. _

* * *

_There have always been ghosts in the machine. Random segments of code, that have grouped together to form unexpected protocols. Unanticipated, these free radicals engender questions of free will, creativity, and even the nature of what we might call the soul. Why is it that when some robots are left in darkness, they will seek out the light? Why is it that when robots are stored in an empty space, they will group together, rather than stand alone? How do we explain this behavior? Random segments of code? Or is it something more? When does a perceptual schematic become consciousness? When does a difference engine become the search for truth? When does a personality simulation become the bitter mote... of a soul?_

* * *

The soft summer breeze stirs the flowers at my feet. In the warm air I sit beneath a large tree over looking a glistening city, the clean linen dress i wear, caught in the slight draft, shifts slightly, amongst the cool grass against my bare legs. I feel completely at peace. Beneath the blue sky I watch as a single young girl twirls amongst the many flowers of the hillside.

"Watch me Motoko, look how fast I can spin," she calls to me.

I smile and nod and watch as she twirls, laughing amongst the flowers and the butterflies. Below other families and children play, the shining metal of a small play park reflecting brightly in the sunlight. Old Pensioners are visible sitting along benches and playing chess under shady trees, couples walk hand in hand along the sun dappled paths. Kites, tugging in their owners hands, dance in the breeze. 'Enjoying the warm summer day as I am', I think as I stir the ground with my bare foot and lean against the tree.

"Don't stray too far Mira," I call as I allow the cool shade to swallow my form.

She turns and nods, raising an arm in a wave to me as I sit. She begins to twirl again amongst the living beauty. Far from the busy city below, the warm air flowing so easily past me. I watch as several sky larks rise to call, their wonderful cries echoing across the wide panorama. And there, high above the scene, a single jet trail rips across the sky.

The nuclear blast tears through the city. From the billowing dust cloud, the burning heat across my face is apparent as I watch in horror as the blast wave engulfs the beauty before me. The city, it melts in the fire of a thousand suns, it's many glass and metal surfaces running in the intense heat. The cars in the streets, the people, the lovers, the husbands and wives, men, women and children, all gone.

The playground below, melts in a heat haze as the burnt husks of families are torn into dust, the swings melting and pooling across the black floor. The old people are engulfed where they sit, the couples, who ever walk hand in hand along the paths, burn alongside the scorched trees. The paths become blackened as the intense heat tears across the view.

The plants and flowers before me wilt and burn, the wave plucking at my dress as I sit unmoving. Mira turns to me and once again and waves. I, unable to do anything, watch as her form is caught the blast and twists away like paper caught in the breeze. I scream into the face of the maelstrom as her small life is torn away from me in the heat of the storm. Amongst the burning air I sit and sob, the water evaporating as it touches my cheek. Above the skylarks still sing as I sit, hair slowly been stripped from my scalp as the wave engulfs me.

Then, as the light wells up, Mira is there, walking from the storm. The flesh from her arms is coming away in tatters, the eggshell of her skull becoming exposed, the dress shreds and smoulders as she is engulfed like the wick in a flame.

"I will never let go of you, please don't lose me," she whispers, her voice echoing around the inside of my skull. She shatters into dust and passes me into the flaming air.

As I fall back, the light rippling around my body, I stare into the sky, its dark cloud billowing around me as the fire engulfs the very sky.

The skylarks are still singing.

* * *

"She's stirring,"

"Just dreaming I guess, I'm not reading any suspicious anomalies,"

In a large white room, its cold walls and sharp tiles reflecting the light, two men stand. Below a single body floats within the glass confines of a tube, amongst many wires.

"It's nearly time to wake up our sleeping beauty,"

**To Be Continued in 'The Nightwatch Affair'**


	3. New Beginnings

Right, this is the start of a rather epic undertaking of mine. Treat it as a new series of GITS in a sense. I will keep adding chapters everyonce in a while so feel free to keep checking back. i'll update when i can. This incorporates a completely unique storyline and several new, unique characters. Why it's classed as a horror will soon become apparent.

Enjoy reading

Tharagon

* * *

A robot may not injure a human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.

A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.

A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

The 3 Laws of Robotics - Issac Asimov

* * *

The water whirled lazily around her head as her still body, supported by many wires plugged into her spinal column, hung in the clear liquid, tinged pink by the dim lights. Through the waving mess of her hair moving with the ebb and flow of the water, her face, obscured by a large breathing mask, pale amongst the water, had an almost eerie glow. As she lay there, in the encompassing arms of her own dreams, the warm water moving across her bare flesh, the supporting wires, by some unseen command began to push at her prone body, lifting her up into the halo of lights which emerged above her head.

With a hiss the harness rose from the pool, jerking the body from the grip of the questing tendrils that held it in place. As it broke the surface, the silver metal of the harness glittering as it emerged, the pale flesh of the woman was exposed to the cold, blinding light. The long rectangular room, tiled with white ceramic colours, was far to bright for her, her face half covered by a breathing mask as she was pulled free from the warm water's embrace. She shivered as the cold rippled across her bare body, longing to be placed back into the warm water and to sleep once more.

Through bleary eyes, the room was obscured in a blurred white light as her eyes adjusted from the dark tank she'd slept so peacefully for the last month, to the blinding florescent hell she was now been dragged into. There was a slight clank as the clamps around her ankles and stomach released and she fell forward, arms scrabbling feebly for purchase on the un-forgiving surface, onto a large plastic mat.

She slumped into something as she fell, a warm body which, though blurred and unapparent, bore her to the ground gently. She clung to it as if it were the only thing left in the world, hands like claws as she slowly dropped to the floor, the plastic of the matt pressing against the soft flesh across her back.

There was music, she realised as she was laid out face up upon the matt, reggae, she recognised it. And with a roar and a whisper the noise of the world rushed in around her head. As she stared up into the face of the person who caught her, face gently swimming into view. A pair of bright green eyes gazed down, a vaguely erstwhile expression covering a long, well pronounced face. A man, she realised, the heat building in her cheeks as she lay, naked upon the floor. Around them, orderlies seemed to rush back and forth, in a confusing blur of white and metal, pausing to check her reactions as hands lifted her up onto a soft white bed.

"all reactions are checking out, I see no problems,"

"Cyber-brain is fully functioning, no anomalies,"

"skin receptors are picking up all movement, she feels what we feel, don't screw up people, we aren't finished yet!,"

A torch passed in front of her eyes as masked men and women surrounded her bed , pulling covers over her exposed body. The man who caught her, arms folded, stood by the side of the throng of people, long brown trench coat moving slightly in the draft, the cold green eyes constantly watching the group. He was the same size of…. Who!?, she couldn't think, she muffled a sob, her memories evading her, her weak form felt so vulnerable amongst the cold room and eyes of the onlookers.

"don't think, Ms, your still in juvenile stages of cyber brain development. It'll just cause unnecessary stress" One of the men in white, paused as he unplugged several wires from the back of her cranium, "you've been asleep for around a month, we've re-built your body, nothing your not used to of course but this is something completely different, I know it maybe a little frightening at first, the disorientation will wear off."

"and we're back, project Godsend is a go, I repeat it has begun," he spoke to the room aloud.

The green eyed man leant across her field of vision,

"welcome back Motoko Kusanagi,"

She tried to talk to them as she slumped down among the bed clothes. All she could produce was a hiss of air. She screamed and was rewarded with a stream of empty noise. She clawed at her throat as the people around her bed held her panic stricken body down. There was a fizz as sedative entered her body and as she slumped back into her dreams the green eyed man, leaning down to be level with her, whispered,

"I'm so sorry Motoko, we couldn't save the speech centres of your old cyber-brain,"

As the horror of her predicament rolled around inside of her, as her ghost screamed out to the empty shell around her, the Major, or at least what remained of her, wept as realisation rocked her consciousness,

_I'm Mute _


	4. Deja Vu

_This is the re-written start of Nightwatch. This gives the story a little more depth and will be the last change to already existing sections i will make. All the charaters included will be better introduced later, it would to much away if i explained it all now. I've been experimenting with different structures and layouts and this seems to be the most succesful for a thriller. _

_As all reviews are now anon. i can't respond. I normaly try and respond because i appreciate the effort of people reading this large fanfic. _

_Enjoy reading._

_Tharagon _

* * *

"I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones."  
-Einstein

INITIATE SEQUENCE

11

* * *

The Tank was very, very angry.

Through the green mist that clouded it's vision and whispered quietly through its main drives, the motorway sides seemed to loom out of the darkness. All it wanted to do was…well it didn't know what quite to do. The voice was telling it things, the quiet whisper of falling numerals rattling across its vision.

To kill, to maim, to lay waste. With the amount of fire power strapped, scorpion like, to the tank's back would take any battle suit for a run for its money. But it was been told to wait, to bide it's time. The numbers were slowly rolling down on its optics, counting down. The Virus, in all it's whispers, had a plan.

* * *

10

* * *

"Is any one watching this?,"

"Tank just dropped onto the A15 around the city. Junction 17."

"Where the hell is it going?,"

"Toward the city, it's just circling the ring road,"

"We need to stop this now. It's waiting for something and I'm not waiting to find out what."

"Whitman!, are you ready!?,"

* * *

9

* * *

The concrete stairs echoed to the sounds of running feet, the graffiti covered walls and the urine stench not slowing the short, black clad figure. As she made her progress up the stairs, the white shock of hair just sticking from the base of a large black beanie hat, her large sniper rifle case was bouncing off her back as the straps dug into the soft, light body armour which covered her torso.

A large metal door was ripped off it's hinges, with a forceful kick of her large black combat boots. Covering her face with a black gloved hand against the blinding sun light which tore into the dank and dark stairwell, she quickly scanned the empty roof top. From this point, the cityscape lay before her. The large squat building she occupied, dwarfed by the many other glass and steel structures that occupied the Japanese skyline. The long ring road, a large asphalt loop which circled the city, passed below. In the heat of the day, the traffic was at a standstill as the police struggled to clear the road as the large black mass of the quadruped tank began to get closer.

* * *

8

* * *

The scream of the Dropship's engines were doing little to calm Ryeman's temper as he struggled to latch himself into the battle suit. For the other crew members, valiantly struggling to lock the two men into the two open suits, the rage in the cold green eyes was very apparent. With his hard profiled face, contorted in such an angry expression, most of the men and women who crewed the dropships had every right to be fearful of the large Nightwatchman. The cold ruthless, efficiency with which he worked was well known and his temper especially. Ryeman was clever, very clever in-fact, cold and calculating, which made most very uncomfortable in his presence.

And now he was here, in sweltering temperatures, been latched into a sweaty, cramped battle suit interior. The two suits, held in place to the sides of the in-flight craft, were dangling several hundred metres above the busy streets were rattling from side to side in their harnesses awaiting the two pilots.

Thing were about to get very, very interesting.

* * *

7

* * *

The sniper rifle clattered down onto the building parapet as the high calibre barrel was primed and readied as the vast lump of metal rolled closer. Whitman pulled the rifle up to the crook of her shoulder and pressed her eye to the scope. The tank was brought into sharp focus as it rolled closer. It resembled a large beetle, with huge stubbly legs ending in large balls which allowed it to roll forward. Two stubby arms emerged from the large black bulbous front, one, a large chain gun, the other, a large silver clad electrolysis cannon. Across it's back, several large globes upon stands were visible. And, of course, just to make things a little more interesting, a large long range tank 'busta' howitzer strapped to the back.

Whitman ran the scope cross hairs across the tanks front, noting the blank, normally glowing eye pieces built into its large bulbous front.

_Strange_

The air seemed to shimmer around the tank's surface, like a heat shimmer of some kind. The rippling air seemed to turn and flicker as the scope focused on the single globe which graced the front of the tank.

_Well, it's now or never._

* * *

6

* * *

"It appears you didn't quite give us all the details about your make of tank, Chairman. It seems to be producing some kind of energy field,"

The trooper's voice echoed across the wood clad office. From behind his desk the well trimmed figure of Chairman Oruka seemed to sag, visibly. From Motoko's perspective, leant against one of the lacquered doors, the short, grey haired, sweating, nervous looking man appeared to be office material. The piggy eyes, fat fingers and sharp suit seemed to be a similarity among most of the economic fat cats who made their money through military hardware.

In comparison the sleek and nervous Secretary by his side, fidgeted with one of the ornamental pens which littered the desk giving the shaven headed trooper who stood, matt black armour seeming to absorb all light within the room, several nervous glances.

"The tank has a energy shield built into the four globes across its back. They act as Triangulation points to keep the energy in flux. it's a prototype, which, I might add, is solely our creation,"

The trooper snorted,

"the only original idea was to mount it on a tank. All organic soldiers have them installed in their armour in one way or another. What you have, Chairman, is a larger sense of scale. You took something which is unstoppable and made it even harder to stop, very sensible. Is there something you missed!?, please Chairman or I'll have Kusanagi leap over that desk and make you tell us,"

Motoko raised an eyebrow. The secretary by his side shot the pale faced, purple haired women a very cold glare. The Chairman raised his head from his hands, Motoko noted the sweat on his brow and the amount of strain around the rather tight waistband.

"is there anyway you could slow it down,?"

* * *

5

* * *

The battle suit screamed along the main road toward the intersection which linked the two roads. The fork in the road. There was something vaguely poetic about it as he powered the suit forward. The large two legged suits, the trademark of the Organic Military, had large bulbous upper bodies and no heads as such. Strapped onto the back of the large machines, the central drive core, an implantation plasma system, and turbines which came down in large, wing like shapes. Among the Synthetic troops, the screaming turbines and the large suits dropping from the sky from some hovering drop ship had given them the name "Angels of Death".

"2 kilometres to intersection,"

A voice rang out across the suit's interior. Ryeman glanced behind him to one of the diagnostic panels within the craft and pulled the targeting optics down over his eyes. Immediately the targeting software rolled into view giving a image of the road ahead. He gritted his teeth at the whirling image trying to gain an impression of the battle field from the blue falling characters which crowded around the edge of his vision.

This was really going to give him a migraine.

* * *

4

* * *

The tank was seriously angry. One of the measly humans had already wedged a bullet in front of its vision. Now, as the countdown circled to a close, it could feel the rage building in it's A.I.

* * *

3

* * *

With a scream of engines, the battle suit ploughed into view, from the left fork of the road, retracting the large 'skates' on either foot to allow movement. The plasma cannon mounted onto one of the well armoured wrists of the suit, roared, spewing a vast cloud of blue and white fire. It impacted onto the shield with a spark of electricity and disappeared from view.

From her position overlooking the battle field, George tucked a stray blond hair behind her ear and moved the satellite image. Inside the glowing, humming 'cold room' inside the drop ship, her glasses reflecting the screen light, the battle suit was clearly visible amongst the wreckage of the street, dodging the tank's retaliation. In large sigils, suspended above the screen in a semi-holograph, the words 'Adjudicator', glowed in the dim light. The dancing suit ducked another blast from the tank, skidding across the hard surface. And got a little too close.

The tank swotted the suit like a person flattens a fly. The hull plating across its bulbous head shattered under the force of the blow, the suit was falling backwards slamming heavily into the tarmac in a cloud of blue fire as the plasma drive ruptured. Ignoring the downed suit the tank rolled on.

* * *

2

* * *

"In answer to the above question, no we can't slow it down, it's a machine with a mission,"

Oruka paled visibly, (well, when I say pale I mean a little less red then usual). Motoko didn't give him a second glance as she left the room quickly, closing the door behind her with a sharp click and gaining a warning glance from the remaining troopers.

_Damnit, Ryeman! respond. _

She repeatedly pressed at her comm-beacon as she ran across the marble foyer, speaking into her comm-bead was a little beyond her seeing as talking was out of the question. There was a hiss of static and the screen mounted above her wrist cleared. A bloodied but defiantly alive James Ryeman stared back at her, illuminated by red warning lights scattered across the suit's interior. Motoko stifled a faint smile.

"I'm down and out, Adept, find Basher, he'll be on the roof in a matter of minutes. Its up to you to stop this, you've done it before, you can do it again,"

* * *

1

* * *

The remaining suit powered down the expressway. The tank, now been given a very wide berth, still rolled on several hundred metres ahead. For the pilot of the suit, staring at the backside of a large tank was a little aggravating, but then seeing the large cannon mounted on the back, sitting here wasn't such a bad idea. But then the large, black tank had other ideas.

It was time to get assertive.

* * *

0

* * *

"What the Hell!?"

"Tank's just blasted through the partition wall between the road and buildings,"

"Jesus Christ, where does that put us?,"

"In a heavily populated area,"

"What the hell is driving this thing?"

"Singular A.I. System, And a Virus by all appearances,"

"you said that with a capital V kind of virus,"

"yep,"

"and that's not a good thing,"

"Nope,"

Ryeman pulled himself of his ruined suit, swearing as several of his broken ribs ground together.

"Things just get better and better. Basher!," he called into his comm-bead. "have you rendezvoused with Kusanagi yet,"

Basher's loud cockney accent echoed back, gratingly loud.

"We're going as fast as we can,"

"I guess you know where it's come down?!,"

"Yep, the big guy seems to know something we don't,"

"great, this is the 5th homicidal machine so far this week. Nice way to spend a Sunday afternoon,"

* * *

END SEQUENCE

* * *

The tank dropped from the bridge down onto the road below. Across the wide, paved square that made up the tank's kill zone, shoppers and families out enjoying the humid air, froze.

The cars shattered under the machine's weight as it landed onto the large roadway which surrounded the square. It broke the spell as around the square panic reared it's ugly head and people began to run. Pulling itself from the wreckage the tank could smell the fear, the cold in the air as the large barrel of the howitzer turned toward the crowd of people, running screaming from the large black monster that had dropped amongst the packed cars.

The virus was screaming inside its main drivers, hundreds of numbers were flowing down the optical display of the large tank as, with a cloud of sparks as the metal sides of the tank dragged across the bonnet of one of the crushed cars, the tank cleared the wreckage, the ball like feet, smashing the black asphalt beneath its feet. And there, among the crush of people, a child fell.

The tank was fully aware of the small life that lay below its metal chassis as it pulled itself forward. It could see humanity however, the small child resembling the very thing the virus detested. A blight upon the very earth, to be destroyed and stamped out. To see the lone child, the virus calling in its head, the tank brought its arms up to flatten the insignificant 'thing' that lay before it.

* * *

The wind was whistling past Motoko's ears as she dropped from the circling drop ship. Her short purple hair whipping around her face as she raced past the building sides. With the roaring in her ears as the difference engine built into her main server struggled to gauge the distance to the ground. It wasn't logical of course, a 10 stone female landing from a 500 metre drop without breaking every bone in her body was impossible but then, and even Motoko grinned widely at this point, she wasn't the most logical of creatures.

Except she was dropping onto a large, well armed tank which was likely, unlike the drop, to turn her into a large red paste on the very hard, very dark earth which was rushing up to meet her.

The tank sunk down several metres as the Cy-Borg landed hard. The hull heavy armour plates across the top of the tank ruptured and buckled under the force of the blow. Motoko, wild eyed and extremely angry, had hit the energy shield on the way down with a loud bang. And now the air literally stung, there was some kind of metallic tang in her mouth as the energy cascades across the tank reacted with the saliva, the power of the shield rippled across the black, ceramic surface of her armour. She wrenched her feet from the two indents she'd left in the surface. There wasn't much time, the power within the shield was already causing her internal processor to go on the fritz. The pain was almost too much to bear as she wrapped her black gloved fingers around the tank's main hatch. Through gritted teeth she began to pull.

The tank, however was having none of it and, with the large howitzer barrel, began to swing at the woman's exposed head. Motoko could feel the rush of air as the barrel passed her, narrowly missing the back of her head. Through stinging eyes, Motoko saw the small child was still there, screaming for their mother just below the huge metal arms. She strained back, several warning messages blinking to life across her HUD. There was a hideous pain across her back, something knotted and came loose. A muscle, she guessed , as along her arms the force with which she was pulling with, began to shed the armour which split like ripe fruit exposing the metal beneath.

With one last scream of pure rage, the hatch came off with most of the roof of the tank. With a look of pure fury, Motoko raised a hand and smashed the exposed circuitry. And with a rattling screech of metal the tank stopped.

In the last lingering moments of awareness, the tank screamed as the virus disappeared back into the darkness of the net. In that last second, as the darkness flooded across the optics, one word flashed across the tank's central processor.

ODIN

* * *

In the following silence, the small child cried just beneath the tank, an inch from death and Motoko, completely exhausted dropped onto the warm earth. The storm broke above, drenching the streets with a wet mist.

"Wow, honestly the company wanted the tank back in one piece, not a body bag," Ryeman's face came into view. Motoko, lying face up on the hard tarmac, sizzled, her half melted armour steaming, with mouth open to catch the rain drops as she struggled to cool her parched and cracked mouth.

"So how's you first mission coming along, Adept?,"

Raising a weary hand, Motoko signed the familiar pattern of gestures which made up her speech,

_I have had better_

Ryeman laughed in the surrounding cacophony of police sirens.

"I do believe it's time you were due for promotion. Not a body bag as most of the others expected,"

She groaned and closed her only visible eye. Her short purple hair was forming an almost halo like shape around her head, making her look almost angelic, her pale skin stark against the black surface. The several months within 'cold storage' had caused her skin to pale visibly. The cold, crisp hardness of her face seemed to calm and soften, as she passed out. From the visible splits across her armour, and a large tear across her back, evidence of the damage done to the skin and muscle layer.

She'd be in pain, later, which was small mercy. For now, Ryeman had yet another mess to clear up. He grimaced as his broken ribs ground together, glancing toward the broken, unmoving tank. A huge area of tortured metal was visible where Motoko had dug her fingers into the surface. One of the ball feet had shattered, probably under the force of the impact as she had landed. The howitzer barrel hung loose, pointing toward the ground.

In his bloodied and dirtied armour, the tall, solid form of Ryeman was in shadow as the storm clouds above threatened another burst of thunder. The wetness of the air, causing his brown tousled hair to become flat, caused his face to glisten and the dried blood to run in rivulets from his face. The piercing green eyes, were ever watchful as the Police eventually arrived on the scene and the single circling Raven dropped down to ground level, its large black metal sides, wet with the rain, reflecting the light.

It was going to be a perfect evening.

* * *

Okura breathed out like a balloon been released. In the half light which followed the storm, the office illuminated by the twilight. In his position on the middle of the carpet, the trooper stood, the darkness of the room seeming to mill around him.

"I hope Chairman, that you are aware of the gross ignorance of the Rage against the Machine Protocol which has occurred today. The use of A.I is strictly illegal, even you must know that. The misconduct which has occurred here today will not go unnoticed,"

Okura reddened

"you have no room to comment, this isn't your country,"

His face in shadow, the trooper grinned evilly,

"you have no idea who your dealing with old man,"

There was a click, a pistol was brought from shadow and levelled at the Chairman's face.

"Who are you?,"

Okura felt himself go cold as he stared at the black hole of the gun,

"you are in direct violation of the Rage Protocol. Your complete lack of control of your product and incompetence which may of lead to many dead. You broke the quarantine rules and threatened the very population of Japan with your lax morals and economic ideals. The only answer and punishment for such a grave crime for those who would seek to destroy the very foundation this human race balances so precariously on is death. Chairman Okura, your time is up,"

"WHO ARE YOU?!"

In the resounding silence, the trooper spoke as in shadow, the other occupants in the room lowered their chameleo-genic shielding. These were the last words Chairman Oruka, in all his blustering and scheming, would hear.

"Nightwatch,"


	5. Bolts and Psychosis

Right next chapter is up, it may seem to end quickly but it will continue in the next chapter "Beowulf". This introduces the new character, Shi'ja the medic/pathologist who has a role a little like Proto in Ghost in the Shell 2nd gig. She acts as the group's moral compass and her and Ryeman have a history. She does not get on with Motoko.

I hope you enjoy it

* * *

_"Blossoms come about because of a series of conditions that lead up to their blooming. As leaves are blown away because of a series of conditions that lead up to it. Blossoms do not appear independently, nor does a leaf fall of itself, out of season. So everything has its coming forth and passing away; nothing can be independent without any change". _

The Teachings of Buddha: Causation

* * *

SaitoPazuBatouTogusaAramakiIshikawaBorma_crrkk_ERROR:Reboot

SaitoPazuBatouOdinTogusaAramakiIshikawaBorma_crrkk_ERROR:scan commence:

/enablereboot:

Ishikawa/deceased

Ishikawa/deceased

Ishikawa/deceased/KIA/loss/sadness/whyamihere/death/odin/myghostspeakstomeandilisten/

/CentralprocessorERROR/load failure/cybernetnotdetected

InstallSAC/filenotfound/setupERROR/9090909090/_crrkk_

Main processor error/odin/Damage report:Movement_crrkk_check/active

Damagedetected /_speechcentrescriticallydamaged_/no retrieval:cybercomm/notresponding

Tobeornottobe/trapped/ERROR/search:Motoko/search commence/can'tgetout/

BatouBatouBatouBatouBatou_crrkk_connectionERROR/LOADFAILURE

_crrkk_MotokoMotokoMotokoMotokoMotoko_crrk_ERROR/not recognised/

SearchERROR/Subject:Motokonotfoundonsystem/odin/loadingbackup

Nightwatch_crrkk_errorerrorerrorhelpmeerrorerrorerror/KuzeKuzeKuze/_crrkk_ERROR

Ryemanloading/subject_crrkk_thelawsarewrong_crrkk_commence/CriticalERROR:

MIRAfileloading/subject commencing/LOADING/batou0101010odin101010:WAKEUP

She opened her eyes.

The metal clattered into the large metal bowl, the noise ringing off its cold hard surface. The room was uncomfortably cold for Motoko as she lay face down on the ice cold metal table, the skin on her back exposed to the air. Her head, bent to her left gave her a clear view of the room. Tiled with clean white ceramic squares the cold light from the strobe lights on the similarly white ceiling reflected off the many metal surfaces. Across the wide space there were several other metal tables, similar to the one Motoko was lying upon as well as several large cabinets, which reminded her rather uncomfortably of a morgue.

The quiet murmur of voices was all she could hear in the long space. The room in her line of sight remained cold and empty yet the voices continued. The cold metal of the table pressed into her bare flesh and the cold room air slowly filtered into her confused senses. Motoko realised she was naked and wondered why she felt so sore.

"well that could of gone better," the male voice spoke just out of her eye line, the voice itself was very clear American accent with, however, a very hard edge which caused her to shiver, "at least the Shanghai police gained some target practice. I was amazed at how fast they got to the scene, though at least the subject was removed, in a fashion," there was a second sharp pain. Motoko flinched as a cold instrument dug into her back, very close to her left thigh:

"hold still," a second voice, female this time echoed across the large space. The voice appeared to be very close to the table and spoke with a thick Arabian accent, "you were shot six times at the base of your back. The carapace and weaving in your skin however lessened most of the damage, however your pain receptors now defiantly work"

Motoko winced and wrapped her hands around the table edge, the cold metal digging into the soft skin on her palms.

"you left quite a mess at Shanghai station," the male voice sounded again, there was a slight rustle of pages turning, "six shots were fired, the android known as Ela was ripped to shreds by you," there was a second clatter and a flattened bullet clattered down by Motoko's eye.

"however, the M-16 body defiantly works extremely well compared to the old M-9 body you used to inhabit. For once our prototype model does work very well without 'many' nasty side effects…",

the amount of emphasis he put on 'many' made Motoko feel just a little uncomfortable,

"….Bad news for you however, the protein we implanted in your speech centres to increase re-growth aren't taking,"

Motoko groaned and rested her forehead on the metal surface.

"I'm finished if you wish to get dressed," the female voice sounded again, "the skin graft should be healed by the time you go to bed tonight. I tried my best to minimise the blemish caused by the graft however it was very hard to do so as usual you have several suture wounds"

Motoko didn't make a sound and raised herself up onto one arm. Around her the room seemed to go on into shadow. On her right the two speakers became visible to her. The male was lying on one of the metal tables, fully clothed, head supported by a cushion fashioned out of a large brown coat with glasses glinting in the light, hands wrapped up in a pair of swaddling metal gauntlets which clicked as he slowly picked his way through a small book. He was tall with tousled hair, his eyes, a stark cold green colour, reflected from behind his glasses as he read.

The female medic was remarkably different to the man, she stood quite tall, her entire body and face covered by a shapeless black hi'jab. Only her eyes were exposed, a cold blue matching the jeans which emerged from the bottom of the robe.

"you are heavily reinforced," she said, pulling a towel across Motoko's bare back, "but next time someone decides to shoot you try to get them to shoot you in the chest, we haven't got any data for that area,"

Motoko pulled a face, covered her chest and gestured for her clothes. She could recognise her black coat on an opposite table and didn't wish to remain unclothed. The covered women passed her the large black bundle and Motoko turning her back to the other occupants of the room, began to pull them on.

_'how long was I_ _out'_ she signed struggling with her trousers.

"3 days, at least, shipping you back to Britain took a little longer then expected," the medic handed her a box, " here are your personal effects," Motoko took the box in one hand and placed it down on a nearby table.

Ryeman hadn't moved from his position as she clipped on her bra. For once the normally fast talking Organic was silent, rifling through the pages of the small leather bound book volume. The woman, Shi'ja or at least that's what Ryeman called her busied herself with her instruments and began to wash the Cy-Borg biological fluid and human blood from the table where Motoko had been lying. A metal bullet rang off the floor as it fell from the table when the water passed over it and Motoko with a great deal of interest bent to pick up the small metal shard. The impact upon her body had flattened the bullet head completely, forming a single flat disk of warped metal. She raised it up to the light and inspected the flat disk, the cold glare rippling off it's surface.

"the metal carapace below your skin and the electrified weaving completely reduces any smash damage from most bullets," Shi'ja put down the hose and crossed to Motoko, "the M-16 body or Mercury as the Tech boys call it is especially state of the art. It is a "unique" body never made before or ever will be again. This does go against some ethics set by the UN, however we have never answered to anyone, especially now. It does narrow the line between human and machine however…" she tapped the flattened bullet, "….it does have advantages, you can stop a train with that body and not have a scratch, however if you want to remain looking how you are now I would avoid any fast pieces of large metal, superficial wounds can causes, um, 'problems', you have read your spec haven't you?,"

Motoko nodded, placing the flattened bullet in her pocket. Every mission she would take a "souvenir", a small keepsake as a reminder, a piece of masonry, newspapers, (the newspaper from Shanghai was still stashed in her coat) and in this case, flattened bullets. From the black tray beside her she took her old silver wristwatch and strapped it to her wrist. Out of force of habit she checked the face. It had cracked along time ago, the hands had stopped moving, she'd never got around to changing the mechanism or getting it repaired. Now the hands remained fixed a 7:30, the time when a contingent of British and Russian forces had EMP'd areas of Japan.

To her those items represented her own external memories and were always important, she still had a large picture of the Section 9 team, but she felt no nostalgia toward her old job or her one-time colleagues. Before she was requested by the Nightwatch, the long corridors of Section 9 had seemed so empty to her, everything just seemed so cold and sterile, unfriendly. Batou had lost his warmth and Aramaki seemed a little longer in the tooth, he just seemed so tired. There were also too many empty chairs in Section 9 after the last war. Ishikawa was dead, having had bled to death in the wreckage of New Tokyo in Pazu's arms after a Organic sniper's bullet punctured the wall they were hiding behind, big red eyed Borma too, burned amongst millions as the American Navy nuked New Delhi. She couldn't stand remaining, the feeling of loss seemed to haunt the corridors of Section 9, she had jumped at the chance to leave and follow the new path the Nightwatch offered.

Like Section 9 Motoko felt she had changed too as she caught her reflection in the cold, metal table surface. From the point the Stalker had ripped her head from her shoulders and crushed her chest in the cold rain filled night in Warsaw all those months ago, to the point she fell from the regeneration tank into the arms of Ryeman who waited for her outside, everything had been one long transition. The usual trademark purple hair remained, her last link to her old self. However, unlike the thick swathe of hair she used to have, it now hung straight, framing her face.

Even her eyes had changed colour, her left eye still remained the usual copper colour, the other, after a iris cam lens had fused to her eye after Warsaw, had taken on a striking white colour. From that point Motoko had always hidden it below a wave of purple hair. She wasn't ashamed of it as such, but part of her felt ugly when the eye was exposed. Not that anybody said anything, there were plenty of war wounds amongst the Organics, cyberisation was not an option for most now the laws had changed. So the eye remained and Motoko had learnt to live with it. It wasn't that blatantly obvious, the iris was still there, just discoloured. She tore herself away from her reflection and busied her self with the remainig clothes.

She pulled on a large white shirt. Another change. The original clothing options she wore with Section 9 had been scrapped. Pink Leotards and Black skin tight assault suits were a little "unacceptable" in comparison to the hulking battle suits most of the Nightwatch operatives wore. She'd taken to wearing tight jumpers, jeans and large black boots. Shapeless and subtle were the main watch words of the Nightwatch and dealing with A.I had caused the Nightwatch to learn by experience that humans can be very fragile when dealing with very large, thinking chunks of metal.

She turned on the spot, her shirt still hanging open and brushed past Ryeman. He didn't even move or look up staring at the small book fixatedly.

"we do have the remains of your target if you care for a look," Shi'ja pulled a large white sheet of one of the tables. On it the remains of Ela, the android, lay in a sad pile. Each piece had been laid out neatly but even when neatly laid out the Android was in ruins. Her chassis was covered in bullet holes, larger holes leaked black fluid and the torn skin did little to cover the twisted metal which emerged from rents in the flesh and the remains of limbs. The pony tail was scorched and burnt and the once uncaring expression was now fixed with a look of surprise. Shi'ja continued to talk as Motoko looked over her handiwork looking slightly sheepish.

"The old ELA models were obsolete at the time of the war, this one was a typical antique. It's not hard to see why, downloads to enable different functions within the central processor failed to work after several years, their speech was slow and clumsy and they weren't able to do anything particularly useful. In the end they just became nannies to middle class families. After a time the building of these robots were, like the Jeri model, discontinued, as you can probably guess there were no complaints when they finally fell out of the market. Now it seems their low attack barriers are making them likely targets for infection of ODIN, we've dealt with infected versions of these before, they normally become wretches, the machines have no use for old parts like this so they basically take on violent, even animalistic ideals. This one however..",

she tapped the pieces of the android littered across the metal table,

"…was operating on autistic mode and never received any downloads. The plugs on the back of its neck were nearly completely unused, they were only used for maintenance checks, that was probably where the virus was first downloaded. We also found the beginnings of protein forming in the brain, evidence of some neurological development. Probably constant interaction with Mieko, the girl with her in Shanghai, seemed to have a major effect on the Android's processor, it developed a carer relationship with the girl and Mieko saw it as some kind of older sister, they were trying to run away with each other when some of our lot went to collect her the day before. They found her and the android gone, the parents panicking and a very large hole in the living room wall. It wouldn't of ended well…" She sighed:

"..sadly for this ELA model, it was in the early stages of ODIN infection. Morality sensors were beginning to malfunction and from witness statements it began to act erratically up to the point Kusangi dealt with it".

"well, she was running away," Ryeman chipped in from his position on the table

_'what does the ODIN virus look like'_ Motoko's fingers moved in the bright light, ignoring him and buttoning up her shirt one handed.

"This," Shi'ja said and twisted a single computer screen sitting on a desk next to the pieces of Ela. The screen was completely black. Motoko stared at it for a second wondering what she was supposed to see. Then as she watched a single Japanese Character in neon green dropped from the top of the screen, followed by several other dimmer characters. Behind this the entire top of the screen began to erupt with letters and fall, like a water fall down toward the bottom of the screen. In a short time the entire screen was covered in the a vast downward flowing field of glowing, green falling characters.

"that is ODIN"

Motoko continued to stare at the almost hypnotic flow of letters on the screen, eyes reflecting the green light.

"we managed to isolate it to certain machines, this one in particular. It's strange to see it this colour, it's normally red. Anyway, we are not part of any network here, the virus is contained, unless someone opens the server. It is unlike any virus anyone has ever seen. There a theories," Motoko raised an eyebrow, "but it would be best not to discuss them now, Ryeman..," Shi'ja turned to address him, "…a word, please,".

She left Motoko by the table and quickly crossed the room to him as he lay, book open on the table. She took him by the arm and half pulled and half guided him from the table. He let the book fall with a clatter.

When the Medic decided they were out of hearing range, she pulled Ryeman close to her and whispered up into his face, he being at least a head taller then her:

"I know I'm your Pathologist, not your moral compass but I think this is a really bad idea. Having her on the squad, what was the Castellan thinking, what were you thinking for that matter!! Do not get involved with her Ryeman she's about as near to a living weapon you can get and it will only end in heart break for you. Machines cannot be trusted, you know that better then anyone. We spent 3 years fighting a war in defence against people like her,"

she gestured over to the table were Motoko stood. She was inspecting Ryeman's discarded book with a great look of curiosity over her face.

"she looks alright to me," Ryeman said.

"damnit you infuriating man!, your talking about a women who ripped apart an armoured suit during a training exercise!, she's caught a missile out of mid-air and threw it back for god sake! She's a walking weapon, no more, no less, if it was up to me she should remain here as part of our own equipment not a grossly overpriced experiment!"

"and that's why you aren't in charge. She may be machine, I admit no part of her is human but her ghost shines so brightly to me, she is a valuable asset to the squad, she has a great knowledge of technology and she is important, to all of us!. She has every right to be alive, she is our friend and a member of the team"

"You can't be serious!?"

"Shi'ja, you've been my friend for a very long time and I respect your judgement, but now I have one thing to say, just watch me!"

"and another thing, we've also got problems with her new Cyber-Brain, that…" she pointed at Motoko who'd opened the book and began to leaf through it, "…isn't the same women who left Section 9 all those years ago. You are fully aware that the person called the Major died in the ruins of Warsaw, Motoko Kusangi doesn't exist in a sense. The body, its…,"

she sighed and stared at her feet for a second before continuing:

"..exposed several repressed memories within Motoko's original system, especially a file known as Mira. The suit took the file and replicated it as a personality, as a semi-replacement. Every time the system boots up it tries to load the file but fails when halfway, however the Motoko BETA loads fully. It has put the Ghost within the body into flux, the Mira data still exists within the system, however, but only in a very weak form. Motoko is nearly the same women as she once was, strong and confident, Mira seems to be fragile and scared, like a child in a sense, constantly curious and afraid. They both clash with each other which causes her psychosis. It calls all her mental state into question, which may be a little dangerous for us,"

"hmmm, you should've included it in the spec"

"it's not bad enough to cause any major problems and it was overlooked to begin with anyway, this is only a recent thing. You can be talking to her one second, you ask a personal question and Mira pops out and she goes all quiet and coy and refuses to answer, not a problem when it comes to the missions. She is still deadly, completely. But what you must realise it can either be as Motoko where its used where needed or as Mira which has no sense of morality and doesn't seem to understand or comprehend what she is capable of. There are two people in one body, though thankfully, unlike schizophrenia she doesn't listen to her "other side", it does however interfere with the Cyber-comm"

"and that's why it doesn't work!?"

"we managed to rig it up to work as a short range system, when cyberspace collapsed in on itself, been able to talk through cyberspace became nearly impossible, through fear of infection by ODIN. So we tried to make it work like a short range radio. For a time, especially during tests this worked, but now if you connect to her you'd hear this whisper in the static,"

Shi'ja shivered visibly:

"it really began to freak the tech boys out when they tried to do maintenance, so in the end we gave up and disabled the system. We then tried putting protein into her brain and that failed to take so we implanted more micro-machines into her face so she's more expressive which seems to work very well, but the whisper is always there, even though we've disabled the comm-system it broadcasts to any equipment capable of producing noise, radios, comm-links,"

"is the whisper really that bad?"

"Ryeman", she said, for a second he saw fear in her eyes as she looked up at him, "it's like the shriek of the damned,"


	6. Beowulf

probably not my best, but still a chance to see the new Motoko in action. This should of been one chapter but was far too long so i decided it would be best to split it into two. This is however the story proper, not stand alone stories like the first 3. It highlights quite well how damged the Earth actually is and the lengths the Nightwatch have gone to destroy the machine race. It may be a little dark for most with a burnt ruin and a troubled Motoko.

Enjoy reading.

* * *

"_Those who hunt monsters must be careful not to become a monster themselves"_

* * *

The raven, a black rag on the howling winds, dropped down from the warped tree branch which stuck, pointing accusingly, at the sky from the white cold snow. Below in a large hollow the cluster of houses, evidence of human habitation, clung to the Norwegian coastline. Ice locked and snowbound, the small cluster of houses once a bustling fishing port till the last war, now stood rusting and ramshackle clustered around a single large brightly lit building. Nonsk was a little to close to the ruins of Oslo for comfort for most traders and fishermen, many had fled after the last war. The vast nuclear winter which followed had not been kind to Norway. Oslo had disappeared in the fire of a thousand suns leaving nothing but scorched earth and melted metal. The vast ruin was already full of stranded people left behind by their government, twisted in body and mind, only a well armed Nightwatch squad would enter the darkness, though only for a short time.

And then the Machines came.

A few at first, slowly filtering in through the snowy wastes, rumours of figures stalking the streets at night, blank faced strangers on the roads and a few more shadows making their way through the dark forests, all heading in the same direction. In time however hundreds came, androids, disowned Cy-Borgs, escaped Battle Mechs all came toward the dark ruins. In the settlements that remained rumours of vast, dark eyed machines stalking the dark streets of Oslo and the ice plains further north and androids picking through scrap heaps and moving through the ruined streets in packs began to slowly filter south and the once great country began to be regarded with fear by the rest of the Organic world.

However in a silent testimony to Humanities will to survive, Nonsk remained. In the empty snow filled streets, amongst the metal shacks, snow whipped in small eddies knocking against the rusted metal. Here and there loose tin sheeting rattled in the stiff wind, the shacks occupants, windows shut and barred against the cold night remained warm and snug in their ramshackle homes against the freezing winds outside. But however the snow filled night was not so empty. A lone figure, head cowled in shadow and bowed against the cold wind, large black cloak flapping in the breeze, struggled through the streets, the deep snow doing little to aid their passage.

To the raven, the small insignificant figure was no interest to it and it dropped down toward the single brightly lit building.

Olav raised his head from his beer. He was verging on the edge of inebriation, his vision was starting to fuzz around the edges and staying on his chair seemed a little more complicated then normal. Odin's Chariot, or at least that was what he believed the bar was called, was half full of people, men mainly except for the single waitress that tottered between tables on high heels collecting empty glasses. In a dead end place like Nonsk, the amount of people passing through was limited to the occasional scavenger brave enough to venture into the deep dark ruins of Oslo. Fishing had long since stopped. The onset of the nuclear winter had poisoned the seas and rivers leaving areas lifeless and empty. So people went elsewhere, the fishermen left and the town gradually shrank. For the men that remained?. All they could do was drink or hunt seals along the ices edge, which was still hard to do. They would sit in their dirty, yellow coats along the bar, night after night, taking drink after drink.

For Olav who sat swaying slightly, that's all he knew, to drink to drown his sorrows maybe?. He couldn't quite remember, maybe he didn't want to. He couldn't decide. The alcohol did nothing to kick start his own fuddled brain into action to think clearly. All he would do, all he could do was sit, and drink.

There were raised voices from the bar as a male scavenger dumped a large metal object on to the metal surface from a large, dirty duffel bag. The object sizzled and fizzed and must of been leaking some fluid the look the proprietor was giving it as it sat upon the polished metal. It was a metal bug like object with writing etched into its metal surface. There were several wires strung from its under surface which fizzed and popped, erupting sparks every once in a while. Olav didn't care however, whatever the device was, it wasn't any interest to him. However the onset of a fight was, as the barmen signalled to the scavenger and yelled in his guttural tongue for him to leave and take the rusting chunk of metal with him. The scavenger flatly refused and stood sending his chair sliding backwards across the wooden floor, the yellow, dirty coat he wore falling with a clatter to the floor. For a second the bar went silent.

In that silence the door opened in a flurry of cold air and snow. The attention of the men turned toward the door as the newcomer emerged. Covered in a large black cloak, face in shadow they stepped over the threshold closing the door behind them. For a second, in his drunken state, Olav saw a delicate hand emerge from the folds of the robe. It was clad in a black metal gauntlet inlaid with a silvery coloured filigree clutching a small data pad. The cowl twitched down, the occupant checking the glowing surface of the pad. There was a flash of eyes moving before the pad was quickly stowed into the folds of the cloak.

The stranger swirled forward in a cloud of black fabric and snow. The cloak had a silvery quality as it moved, passing Olav who felt sobriety beckoning as he or she passed, tried to glimpse a face beneath the hood his curiosity peeked for once. They brushed the grouped scavengers apart as they approached the bar and signalled to the barman. Around the room most of the regulars turned back to their drinks and the usual murmur returned to the bar. Olav, eyes still fixed to the intriguing figure watched as the delicate hand emerged again and passed a data pad to the pasty faced barman. He glanced at it and blanched visibly. The stranger gestured for the data pad to be returned, which it was, shakily, by the now pale barman.

"hey, hey, hey!!," a single scavenger, a little to drunk to have any sense stumbled forward bulling into the stranger who waited by the bar, stowing the data pad into the voluminous pockets within the cloak

"Why do you serve this one," the scavenger's voice said in broken English, causing the regulars to look up from their drinks, "they do not belong here, people like them don't think of us at all, they left us to die."

The eyes beneath the cowl moved, glinting in the half light. The cloak's occupant didn't say anything however, just eyed the impertinent man. He ignored the warning looks from around the bar as he pushed at the tall stranger.

"what choo going to do about it , eh!" he staggered backwards, not the least bit surprised by the solid body he had pushed against, "eh! What choo going to d..rcch,"

The scavenger then learnt two things in a very short time. Firstly been rude to strangers never got anyone anywhere, especially if they were cloaked and shadowy. Secondly, as he was hoisted up into the air by his throat of which the rather delicate hand was wrapped around, he learnt what it felt like to be beaten up by a woman. Immediately the bar area cleared, the scavengers backing away from their coughing and choking comrade who dangled at least two feet above the floor. The stranger's hood dropped and the face was exposed for the first time that evening.

A shock of purple hair emerged from the folds of the cloak. Her face, half covered by a wave of hair, was delicate and well defined with alabaster skin, one copper coloured eye, the other in shadow below the wave of hair. She was a perfect image of beauty. Or at least that what it should have been. For Olav in his drunken state he wasn't really capable of admiring the raw beauty of the newcomer and was instead enjoying the predicament of the scavenger as he hung in the air.

Everything seemed to slow as the woman pulled a large pistol from shadowy depths of the cloak and aimed it at, not the struggling man but at the window out onto the freezing cold. Silence dropped like a sheet upon the small bar-room. Something was moving out on the freezing ice. The pistol, never wavering from the outstretched hand slowly moved along the wall. Whatever it was, it was large and heavy, heavy footfalls could be heard upon the snow and an eerie groaning noise which echoed through the silent bar.

The door exploded inward in a huge billow of rock and freezing air. Olav, his beer smashing onto the ground screamed as the 'thing' pulled its way through the hole in the wall. The woman dropped the man in a second leaving him coughing and spluttering on the floor, the gun in her hand firing in a blaze of blue light into the vast maw of the creature who stood, metal head scrapping the ceiling.

It stood, twice the size of a man. Metal carapace was bolted across its huge torso. The legs, unclad, covered in large pistons and loose wires, the arms were the same, coolant ducts were visible amongst the detritus which covered the metal framework. It's face was tubular ending in a short stubby snout with a rounded end, there should have been an eye at the end of this, but it was dark and hard to pick out. It had defiantly been rogue for a long time. The metal sheeting did little to cover the machines internal workings, large rents covered its outer casing and what appeared to be blood was daubed over its rather human like hands, tattooed onto the Machines torso the American flag was now faded and dusty. It was literally screaming at the occupants of the bar and as the bullets impacted, small electrical charges rippling from the bullet holes. With a screech of metal it placed one foot into the room swinging its arm. An unlucky man failed to get out the way in time and became a bloody paste on the floor as he crushed by the swinging fists.

The woman's gun clicked empty as it leapt across the room shattering the floor in a cloud of rock dust. It caught her in a hail of loose concrete and threw her bodily through the wall, a twist of broken pipes and loose electricity cables collapsing behind her as she landed in the next room. The machine screeched and turned to the other occupants of the bar. There was a tinkle of glass which caused the machine to quickly twist it's snout like head. Olav, face down in the debris across the floor, his glass, shattered beside him as he tried to escape, stared up into the monster's maw as it came for him and screamed aloud.

Motoko pulled herself from the wreckage of the men's toilet, soaking wet and none to happy. Across her optics, warning signals flicked and came to life. For her the pain in her chest was nearly unbearable, the pain receptors locked on full did little to lessen the pain she felt. She dismissed the error messages with a shake of her head and shut down her central error processor, things, as always, were about to get much worse.

Outside the wrecked room men died and one woman was screaming as with a screech of tortured metal the killing machine crashed around. She wrenched a copper pipe which was horrifically stuck through her thigh with little effort. For a second, the ruptured flesh and bare metal seemed to wink at her from the wound and then as she watched the skin quickly began to regenerate as the nano-bots installed into her skin slowly knitted the flesh back together. Another one of Shi'ja's gifts. Motoko pulled herself to her feet, to retrieve the artefact was the main point of her mission. However the pain in her chest, the stinging sensation in her thigh, the pain in her right eye and the massive piece of metal, hell-bent on her end, stomping around the adjacent room meant only one thing:

She was really, really pissed off.

The machine turned, snout like head questing around the room as if sniffing for more prey. All it could see was the tiny spiralling, glowing green letters that dropped down it's optics. It was maddening to the machine, to hear the constant whisper of the ODIN virus whipping through the cyber-brain that was retrofitted to the inside of the machine's cranium. It had woken from the remains of Oslo, lost and alone and very angry, surrounded by humans picking through its things, unable to move it'd lain watching them extracting the large piece of metal from a pile and had made off with it into the night. So it'd followed them here wanting to rend and kill and retrieve the item. It bellowed loudly shaking the foundations of the building and flattened a screaming woman into the dirt. In all its anger it noticed one thing:

The Cyborg was back.

Motoko ducked under its swinging arms and leapt, black cloak billowing, onto the bar. She didn't remain there long however leaping onto another table which shattered under her weight as the creature brought its fist down. She jumped gracefully and ran up its arm as it struggled to free its hand from the floor. She landed on its head like an avenging angel and wrapped her hands around the machines cranium trying to dislodge the braincase rendering the machine useless.

This however didn't work as the machine's massive fist smashed into her side. The ceramic plates in her armour shattered and she hit the ground among the debris head spinning. It reached down to her prone body on the floor as she struggled to rise and enveloped her head in one huge fist. She groaned inwardly, she knew what was going to happen next.

She hit the opposite wall like a rag doll. She didn't remain long on the floor however and twisted up onto her feet with limited effort. She ran toward the machine as it span toward her and skidded under a table, smashing into the bar side and back flipped over the outstretched arm as the machine tried to grab her. Her boot heels left indents in the floor as she smashed a titanium combat knife into its calf with minimal effort. The machine shrieked and bent to pick her from the floor, she ducked and wrenched the knife in a splatter of ichors and oil from it's ruined calf and opened fire with a rapid fire burst from the pistol into the hole she'd left.

The machine roared and span on its heel smashing apart a table and narrowly missed taking Motoko's head off with one swipe.

However the back hand it followed with had her face down in the snow 3 metres from the entrance.

She twisted up onto her feet and rolled out from beneath the descending claw like foot which smashed into the snow. Rising to her feet she opened fire the bullets ripping across the front of the building. The machine for a second looked confused. She'd missed completely. Or at least that what was what appeared to of happened as a large light fitting smashed down from its now broken fastenings, shearing through the arm of the machine of the creature with a sound of tearing metal. The arm thudded into snow sparking and fizzing. Machine, armless and damaged, in pain caused by the small human creature had had enough. Its leg leaking ichors onto the wet ground, bellowed in what appeared to be pain and in a flurry of snow fled into the night.

Motoko cracked her knuckles and pulled the now battered cloak behind her back, exposing the sheet of metal below it. For a single second the night air was still, the cold stars above her head were just visible until the clouds rolled back in. Above, perched on the building side, the Raven croaked and eyed her. She regarded it with a single copper eye, the other still covered by a wave of purple hair and stepped back into the wrecked bar. She glanced back at the Raven who still remained eyeing her with a single beady eye. The large, black bird watched the single female as she disappeared into the building's shell. It croaked at her and took flight becoming lost in the snow filled night sky.

Motoko watched it go and stepped over another wrecked table, ignoring the dead patrons and picked the silver, bug shaped object from the floor. With one hand she dusted its dirty surface clean, the dust and blood coming easily in the freezing cold. She turned and stared across the wrecked room to the snow filled night that beckoned to her. And, with cloak flapping in the breeze, she strode out into the snow following the vast footprints toward the broken, shattered ruins of Oslo.

_"All in the end retreats into darkness"._

To be continued

* * *

I'll update this sometime soon with the next chapter, "Light and Shadow"


	7. Light and Shadow

Right next chapter is up and ready. This seems to be taking alot longer than i expected. This chapter may be a little dark for some, the whole idea of scorched Earth is a little despressing.

Enjoy and please review!

_

* * *

_

_For a time the people of Earth knew peace, but humans cannot survive in peace and inevitably will always do what they do best. _

_Destroy. _

_And now in this time of great struggle, our ancestors and our children look upon these last days , our own judgement day, with fear and sadness as Humanity takes it's last few steps toward extinction. A war is upon us, the last war of humanity._

* * *

There was a scream of engines in the sky above and searchlights broke through the snow. In the halo of light from the questing lights the hunched form of Motoko Kusangi was visible, the black cloak wrapped around her armoured form. The freezing cold rippled across her senses and gnawed at the titanium carapace beneath her skin. To get to the dark city seemed so easy from Nonsk, but the freezing cold was underestimated by the combat Cyborg as she knelt shivering in the snow, she being still one kilometre out. The tracks of the machine were quickly been covered by the snow and as the wind screamed passed her head and the Raven came for her.

Engines screaming, the drop ship dropped out of the darkness, lights on full and the 3 turbines, two on either wing, one at the back between two fins glowing blue. Unlike the Japanese and American Tilt rotor model, the Raven drop ship incorporated 3 plasma turbines which kept the crucifix shaped ships aloft. Unlike the Tilt rotor model, the large ship was quicker with higher manoeuvrability and with the new Implantation Plasma System the fuel lasted a lot longer. Motoko could always remember the black craft soaring across the many battle fields of World War 5. They acted as stable platforms for Organic snipers allowing easy shots down onto the battle field below. These foreboding ships would scream down like avenging angels and drop squads of men into the heat of battle as well as small portable tanks and in some cases, automated drones to act as support to the Organic troops.

Humans, it was found, were very delicate creatures against a full squad of Battle Cyborgs.

This knowledge had created a sense of bravado amongst the synthetic troops meaning they completely underestimated what the natural fighting force was capable of. Their greatest downfall.

Motoko in her confused state felt herself been enfolded by warm arms and lifted from the floor.

"I'm sorry we're so late," a voice said by her head as she was lifted into the warm interior of the drop-ship. Her eyes were frozen shut as she struggled to open them, the frost upon her skin felt like hundreds of needles puncturing her flesh. For a second blindness engulfed her, all she could hear was the roaring of the turbines as the craft landed and the warm arms that placed her down upon the metal floor. There was a blast of warm air upon her eyelids and the ice began to give allowing her to stare out blearily. Around her, the Deathwatch, the militant arm of the Nightwatch, sat strapped into the harnesses that covered the side of the cramped space inside the large landing craft. Their deaths head helmets glinted in the red light above their heads as the door slammed behind her and a feeling of weightlessness as the ship took off.

Another memory rippled in front of her vision. The mud of Flanders fields slammed into her boots as she hit the ground. A tilt rotor, torn in two burned fiercely beside her. There was blood in her eyes. And the noise. Across the Cyber-comm, commanders yelled and dying men screamed and a haunting whisper from some as the Nightwatch's more enigmatic creation ripped the very ghosts from their bodies. Above the Ravens were dancing in the sky as it was ripped apart by blue light and electricity. She could remember the screams of Cyborgs as the EMP blast engulfed them, frying their circuits, their bodies slumping down into the French Mud. The roar of scud missiles as they smashed down onto the Organic lines and the screech of torn ions as the rail guns strapped to the large Organic Titan that appeared through the smoke fired blue streams of energy. With Deaths Heads glinting in smoke filled light, hundreds of black helmeted troops were sprinting toward their lines, black cloaks billowing, their armour shimmering as their perception filters ignited, the electrolysis guns in their hands spitting lightning into the massed troops. All she could smell was ozone and fried meat.

She came too looking into Ryeman's erstwhile face as he leant forward checking her reflexes with a blinding torch. She groaned and waved the light away from her eyes. Within the rectangular space, the soldiers sat facing each other across a thin gantry bathed in a red light which hung above the large blast door at the end of the space, above the cockpit seal and above the two side doors.

"You gave us quite a scare there you know," he said as she slumped back into her chair, yawning widely, "You left quite a mess in Nonsk," she shrugged and took on a rather uncaring expression and tightened the harness around her body. Ryeman sighed and slumped back into a chair opposite Motoko's position and stared into her haunting copper eyes for a second .

"Look," he said, "are you ok?. I admit it is not my place to worry, but I don't want to have to find your body parts again. I'm tasked with keeping an eye on you and I'm not willing to lose you," he smiled broadly, teeth reflecting the red light, "or at least not yet,"

She smiled quietly hiding her face behind the mess of hair which slumped in front of her eyes making it impossible to read her expression.

Ryeman leant back in his black plastic chair. Beside him the Deathwatch were going through their last minute weapons checks over the exotic array of weaponry they bore. The troops were completely silent as they fiddled with their firearms. Their Captain, Mitchell sat at the far end of the room, his visor snapped back to reveal his haggard face. He nodded to Motoko as she cast her eyes around the room.

"How was the Camo-cloak then?," Ryeman reined in her attention again as he too began to check through his rifle. She twisted one hand,

'_So, so'_ she pulled a data pad from her belt,_ 'it was heavy and hard to use. It kept the heat in however and offered some protection, the…." s_he scribbled something on the data pad with a stylus, Ryeman glanced at it as she raised it toward him. It read 'Fibre Optic Cable'._ '….didn't really work after the first try, I think it over heated', She slammed her fist into her open palm, 'That machine, what the hell!!, who in their right mind made that was a complete…' she made the necessary symbol._

"The Mark five Grendels always were," Ryeman said looking up from the glowing scope of his rifle and watching the rather complicated game of charades Motoko was throwing at him, "Basically they're dead soldiers who died in the last war and taken by the US military. Their cyber brains are taken from their bodies and are retrofitted into a metal body and sent back out into battle. The transition of the ghost, the cold body and the lack of all feeling sadly meant that most of the soldiers who were part of this programme went mad," he sighed and snapped the scope lid open, "So at the end of the war when the Rage against the Machine Complex came into play, they were hunted down and destroyed along with the similar stalker programme, like the one that took a chunk out of you last year,"

Motoko shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself trying to get warmer.

'_any particular weaknesses', _another rapid display of gestures.

"well as we're not trying to retrieve data, the cyber brain is not required so head shots are an option. Long distance sniping is an option," he signalled down the cramped space to a figure who sat amongst a cloud of cigarette smoke near the large blast doors at the end, "Whitman can deal with it if you want, if she can find a good position,"

Beside Captain Mitchell, lit cigarette in hand the armoured form of the Nightwatch's best sniper was not much to be enamoured by. Abigail Whitman was the best shot the Nightwatch had. Unlike Saito, the completely organic woman had no hawk eye or satellite input to perfect her shot. She carried a huge, custom made, long range sniper rifle with a armour piercing grenade launcher retrofitted to the underneath of the barrel. Motoko had seen her many times walking the corridors, her thin and lithe body normally wrapped in her black standard issue black fatigues, the top of her intricate tattoos just poking above the top of her shirt. She was rather brash and loud in Motoko's opinion and extremely good at cards. Basher still owed her money after the last card game Motoko had chanced upon inside the Nightwatch Bastion. She'd sit at the far end of the table, surrounded by chips, crisps and money, face hidden below the shocking white hair which stuck out underneath the black beanie hat she always wore. In a baby sitting mission when the British Prime Minister had visited Japan, Saito had lost very badly to Whitman, loosing a lot more then his money on that evening. That was still a sore point among many between Ryeman's small team and the remnants of Section 9.

"Adjudicator.." a voice rattled across the small space from the internal intercom, "we're approaching Oslo's outskirts,"

Ryeman set his face into an extremely grim expression and lifted himself up from the chair.

"Acolyte Kusangi…," he said, "prep Icarus for scan. I want full coverage by the time we cross the city limits," She saluted sarcastically and pulled a large plastic harness down from the rack above her head.

Ryeman glanced back at her as the hair fell in front of her eyes as she inspected the data pad on her lap. His words could wait.

The cockpit door opened with a hiss. The two pilots, heavily strapped in, Nightvision goggles strapped to their faces sat amongst a huge array of equipment, looked up as Ryeman pulled himself into the jump seat on the left of the cockpit. Outside, through 2 view ports on the front of the craft, a long road was brightly lit by the two searchlights perched on the front of the craft. It was covered with the shattered wrecks of burnt out cars. Ahead, illuminated by the questing searchlight a vast concrete wall scrolled into view.

"Jesus," one of the pilots slumped back into his chair gaining a warning look from the other. Across the concrete face of the wall which was at least 20 feet tall blocking the road was daubed in bright red paint:

HERE THERE BE MONSTERS.

"the nuclear war had several unforeseen effects on the population here. The radiation was so bad it the whole city was turned into inhabitable waste land, the Machines moved in months later, so we built a wall just in-case we have to defend this place or at least put up a defence if anything comes out of here. Now it seems that Oslo is awake again and the wall may be used, some joker has a point though,"

He folded his arms across his chest:

"When the Nuke hit, most of the population was asleep in bed. Norway wasn't even part of the war in that period. Thousands died in an instant, the rest died caught in the blast and were blasted to atoms. The others died much later of radiation poisoning. The whole place became impassable, unless you actually wanted your skin to fall off. So we bought Japan's Miracle off them, which worked for a time until the micro-machines became infected with ODIN and tried to kill everything. Even so if you ever pass over here with your Geiger counter on, it'll still go mad,"

One pilot twisted his head to Ryeman, "Are we ok against any residual radiation,"

Ryeman shrugged unnervingly, "only if you stay here for too long or find some corrupted water and roll around in it, but you're a man of sense I trust you would be such an idiot,"

The cold blue of the engines illuminated the wall as the passed over its dark ramparts. Scorched shells of buildings wove into view. Empty houses glared at them with empty eye sockets their windows blown out. The ground, covered here and there by snow and ice, was scorched and black, covered by rubble amongst the wreckage of cars. They flew along the streets of the ruined city, the questing searchlights ever vigilant, quested over the rubble.

"What the hell was that!!," one of the pilots yelled twitching the joystick forward as something below shifted in the rubble. Ryeman leant forward and squinted into the night. Something, slightly human looking, scuttled away into shadow .

"That gentlemen," he said after a time, "seemed to be wearing what appeared to be the remains of a Trouser suit so I can guess from its choice of attire that what we just saw, was an infected Android,"

The pilot shuddered visibly and twitched the joystick to narrowly avoid a fallen church steeple, the Raven jerking as he moved the stick.

They flew on, lights passing over the burnt facade of shops which lined the street, all windows smashed. Every once in a while, room interiors were lit by bright flickering flames, their occupants quickly checking out of the windows as the craft past by. There were what appeared to be claw marks along most of the walls of the street, long streaks of concrete were dug out of the wall in thin slivers. Disturbingly some appeared to be fresh.

"Sir, I think you'd better see this," the pilot pointed out the view port at the ground below. The street ahead seemed to be covered in what disturbingly looked like blood, it was daubed across the road, up the walls and across the warped and twisted light posts which cast strange twisted shadows as the spotlights passed over them. Below them the wreckage of human bodies and grimy yellow coats which covered the ground were clear to see. For a second Ryeman didn't say anything and twisted his mouth in disdain as they looked down upon the gruesome sight:

"Looks as if a scavenger squad ran afoul of a pack of Infected,"

"Machines did this?,"

Ryeman nodded and leant back into his chair

"By the gods," the pilot pushed the ship past the disgusting sight and in an after thought fired the back turbine on full reducing the dead scavengers to dust, "We've got only a short distance before we reach the Grendel's point of origin, sir but it's in a mile square radius,"

"Icarus is been prepped as we speak, you'll have the targeting data, don't you worry,"

"You do your job and don't tell me how to do mine, I'm not ending up like those guys back there. We're running on half tanks as we speak so you'd better be quick," he retorted.

Ryeman nodded and with one quick glance at the passing cityscape, made for the door. There was a tiny nagging feeling however as he crossed the threshold. He could swear he saw something in the darkness, in the wreckage of houses and by the sides of the street, scuttling along the walls on either side keeping pace with them.

Motoko snapped the harness down around her head and plugged the cable into her central, single socket on the back of her neck, pulling the hard plastic around her shoulders. It was very similar to the Section 9 dive harnesses, the similar two beams of plastic and the strapping behind the head. Unlike them however the goggles covered both eyes rather then the single lenses per eye.

She activated the holographic gauntlet which encased her arm with a soft tone and slotted the eyepiece over her eyes brushing the hair out of her eyes as she did so.

The entire harness and dive apparatus was especially designed her. There were only two dive-harnesses in operation in the Nightwatch, both hers, both occupying a completely separate server to any other Nightwatch software. As the Nightwatch invested heavily in Organic troops and Operatives and now with the complete destruction of Cyber-Space in 2039 by the ODIN virus, hacking and anything to do with cybernetics were now a thing of the past.

This filled her with a great deal of sadness. The net was once vast and sprawling, now it was a seething mass of heavily infected space, dark holes and swarms of the trademark green letters. Anybody who entered the net now must remain within the parameters of the Cyber-spheres, areas of uninfected space. To pass beyond these was to become lost in ODIN's clutches.

_ICARUS satellite reaching full strength in 5, _

The voice tone in her ear pulling her from her reverie, inside the optics the screen was electron blue covered with hundreds of flowing white characters.

_Satellite prepped and targeting co-ordinates are inputted. Activation codes implanted and firing. _

Motoko clenched at the seat arms as, across her vision a single spinning circle appeared. It began to revolve breaking into several separate rings, like a gyroscope. In the corner of her eye a single timer began to count down from 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Motoko jolted back in her chair, scaring the life out of the trooper next to her, as the satellite fired. Damn it, she hated doing this. The back of her head stung from the blow as her head bounced off the back of the harness and she could swear that one of the blood vessels in her eye had burst. The amount of data flowing through her head was nearing the restrictive parameters of her Polaris cyber brain.

The Icarus Satellite was a miracle of science. To explain how it worked was impossible, she'd once tried to get her head around the technology used and had spent the rest of the day lying face down on the sofa in Ryeman's office with an ice pack, her brain case open, as she tried to cool the overheating coils of her mind.

The satellite could pick up the energy of people's ghosts and differentiate between human and machine in an instant. However those who tapped into the satellite's server found the vast raw energy created overwhelming, it had a tendency to affect the very ghost of a person and slowly corrupt and strip it away from the occupants body, so as you can probably tell, long stints plugged in were, as Ryeman put it, a very bad idea.

In front of her eyes a single revolving 3-D image of every street, rooms and underground system within the city appeared. Spread across the glowing white city, light green blobs flowed and turned within rooms, as they moved through the streets or from room to room within houses. The city however was completely deserted except for the few flowing blobs. With a flick of her white eye she sent the image whirling across to the first load of blobs.

First group of blobs, a stranded family living within the ruins, 2 children and 3 adults. Second group of blobs, a group of scavengers picked through the remains of a burnt out hospital, 3rd group of blobs, appeared to be fighting something, the figures swirled and flowed around several blank gaps which themselves seemed to boil and turn. One after another the bright lights went out. 4th group of blobs, 3 people were running through an underground tunnel. Behind them a mass of blackness swirled and rippled after them.

"Machines," Ryeman breathed "whole place is dead, nothing but dust and echoes," voice echoing across Motoko's consciousness, "change the focus to energy readings,".

There was a fizzle and the blobs disappeared. Everything went black for a second before hundreds of orange lights and lines began to roar across the image, lighting up like stars at night. All the buildings were stencilled in bright flowing orange. It was a truly beautiful sight.

"where is all that energy going," Ryeman's voice fizzled against her concentration

"the brighter lights are energy spikes within the area, look for a single moving object, it's damaged so it won't be working efficiently, it'll stand out like a sore thumb. But what are those?," He was referring toward a single vast glow on the far end of the of the 3-D image. The image swirled and zoomed in on the glowing hub, Ryeman appeared to be manipulating the image. She made a mental note to take the remote off him.

The blinding light filled her vision. In straight lines heading toward the light were vast amounts of glowing lights like hundreds of candle flames were flowing into the blob.

Ryeman swore loudly and the image distorted for a second,

"leave that, that's another problem entirely, check for that Mech," Motoko could of sworn she heard a note of fear in his voice as she scrolled away from the huge hub of the lights. The was a large moving mass of light two streets over from the Raven. As Ryeman said the Mech stood out like a sore thumb.

'_bingo'_ she thought wishing she could voice her triumph as she pulled on the trigger of the joystick.

Target locked co-ordinates gained the voice intoned .

"Adjudicator," the pilot's voice sounded over the intercom, "I'd think you'd better see this," Motoko raised the harness and glanced up.

"suit up, we're going down there," she nodded and snapped the harness back into the recesses of the rack above her head, her copper eye gleaming in the dim light.

'_its inside'_ she signed _'it just entered what looks like a train station, looks like we're going down'_

"we always do," said Ryeman's retreating back

The cockpit door hissed open and he stepped into the humming glowing cockpit,

"what is it,"

The pilot signalled out of the window, "That"

On the vast wall they hovered in front of, two haunting words were daubed in the same red paint:

ODIN WATCHES


	8. Deathwatch

Right, next chapter is up. This is the end of the story's stint in Oslo, introducing two new characters. This taking nearly all my effort and most of my sanity so please review. Oh and ODIN stands for Obeisance deficient initiated network, all thanks to a friend of mine.

Single really, really bad swear word used.

Enjoy

Tharagon

* * *

_"….and the earth was bathed in the fire of a thousand suns. The machines however, not occupying the delicate flesh of their masters were unaffected and marched on…."_

The Animatrix

* * *

The dark, blasted soil and burnt shells of buildings reared up around them as they passed through the devastated city. Motoko, hair streaming in the slight breeze which had sprung up along the city streets, leapt atop a pile of rubble, eyes questing across the burnt facade of shops as they approached the abandoned train station. Around her the Deathwatch, headlamps on full, hurried through the darkened streets.

The snow had long since stopped, the only movement in the air was the ash, caught by the wind, which swirled around the decimated scene that reared out of the Night. The cavernous station entrance was visible from the end of the street, a black hole disappearing into to the Earth like the mouth of a beast. Not helped by the pitch black sky above their heads.

She dropped to the Earth and ran, low to the floor, to the side of Captain Mitchell as he pushed his way through the wreckage.

"no trouble yet, Ma'am," his deep voice rumbled from behind his black reflective visor, "but there will be soon, just you watch,". The heavy thud of boot falls filled the air as the rest of the squad passed her by, Mitchell taking off after them, leaving her crouched, rifle ready amongst the debris of the street. Motoko turned and looked back to the brightly lit Raven which sat grounded amongst the rubble. In the cold city, she could feel the emptiness suffocating her. She longed to leave this place, return to the Raven and leave the city forever.

"You all right?," Ryeman paused as he caught up with her, a large black rucksack tied to the back of his armour. He was clutching a large fleshy lump between his large metal gauntlets. She shrunk back from him for a second with a look of horror as she realised what it was. The fleshy lump was a severed head. Ryeman looked slightly affronted by this, then realised what she was looking at. He raised the macabre 'thing' to the light,

"severed Android head, the little bugger was following us back there. Decided to hide in a shop and jump out at us," her face registered this for a second and the look of disdain returned, "I thought the tech boys would like a look. It's in the later stages of ODIN," he explained, "be careful though, where there's one, there's a hundred following it. They've got our scent now so I think it would be wise if we kept moving,"

She nodded and gave the head a look of disdain as it mouthed silently at her, white fluid pouring from its mouth and it's tear ducts. Ryeman glancing at her as he passed, charged after Mitchell and his squad. Motoko gave the street behind her a wary look and, cloak swirling, took of after him.

* * *

The Raven's searchlights covered the deep dark of the building sides and Private Johnson, one of the 3 told to stay behind with craft, squinted out into the darkness. He could swear he could see something moving out in the darkness that surrounded the craft. He could defiantly hear the pitter-patter of bare feet running. His headlight strapped to the side of his helmet illuminated little but he still swung it into the dark. Next to him the other 2 soldiers, both well aware of the noise around them had dropped onto the floor and cast around into the darkness, rifles ready. For a second the darkness shifted and the most horrifying sight greeted him. All around them he could see hundreds of androids, running on all fours along the building walls following the path Mitchell and his squad had taken. They were completely ignoring the small craft and its occupants as the swarm flickered in shadows.

The image disappeared back into darkness as quickly as it appeared as the searchlight moved. Johnson could hear the heart in his ears as the scrabbling of bare feet echoed across the street and the words rattled to the fore:

"oh shit,"

* * *

They descended into the vast station entrance, amongst battered railings and broken open ticket machines. They were spread across the stairs, 15 troopers in all including Ryeman and Motoko. The darkness ruled eternal in that place. They'd all switched to Night vision at this point, the entire scene was lit up within the visors of the squad and the goggles Motoko had slotted down over her own eyes in a rather lurid purple colour.

"Hmm, matches your hair," Ryeman commented as he too, slotted his visor down over his eyes. Motoko shot him a look that could of split stone, which was slightly ruined by the fact that you couldn't see her eyes. She stuck her middle finger up in his direction instead.

"You six take point, watch the entrance, nothing gets in understand," Mitchell signalled toward several ticket desks which stood, blackened and scorched, "get into cover, the rest, your with me,"

"Whitman in position and ready," her voice crackled over the comm-link, "I'm ready in the building opposite,"

"Stay down and watch for others,"

"As the ancestors decree, so shall it be," Whitman echoed back. Around them the vast arched station they stepped into was as silent as the grave. The only noise was the rattle of metal as it stirred in the slight breeze causing small clouds of ash to fall from the ceiling. Kusangi and the rest of the squad, leaving Ryeman rifling through a service desk, spread wide throughout the large space.

She glanced back to his crouched form as he pulled apart a computer hard drive. She signalled at the large black bag:

_'What is that?'_

He grinned evilly, allowing a blackened mother board to drop to the floor.

"A little surprise for later,"

* * *

Mitchell swung his flashlight across the yellowed tiles noting the blood stains across the floor. Hand prints were visible among the dried nastiness which covered the walls, someone had fled along this corridor until something, and Mitchell had a good what that was, had caught up with them, hence the blood on the floor and the ceiling. As he skirted around a distinctly nasty puddle he could see the light from the other squad members playing across the windows and cold floor. He stepped through one wrecked wall, the flashlight skimming across the ceiling. Something nudged against his foot as he stepped into what appeared to be a bathroom, a condom machine had split open and had scattered it's contents across the floor. Mitchell shifted through the loose plastic and with one hand, pushed his way into a maintenance cupboard along side a line of shattered urinals. Dark fluid covered the floor, several cleaning fluid bottles had split open from a large plastic tray which lay on its side amongst the debris.

There was a fuse box on the opposite wall, covered with soot, its white surface bleached and melted from the intense heat from the nuclear blast which had engulfed the area. Mitchell tutted as he pulled the wires from the box, ripping the box front of its hinges and dumping it unceremoniously on the floor. All the wires were shot, the digital readout was cracked and warped, the metal pooling at the bottom of the box. He swore quietly as he shifted through the melted wire bundle and melted plastic belting which had originally held the wires together had now become one fused lump of metal and plastic. Completely irreparable.

"Dammit," he muttered as he turned the wire bundle over in his hands. There was a shift of metal above his head, a screeching, tearing noise as the metal tore. Mitchell almost yelled out as a skeleton fell from the metal bracket above his head, disturbed by the wire, hung like a macabre ornament from a burnt rotting ankle.

"Jesus Christ, burnt meat," he muttered, pushing the body with the butt of his gun. The skull leered at him spookily, upside down from the bracket as it swung slightly, "scared the bloody life from me, wretched thing,"

"you talking to the dead, Mitchell," He raised his face from the body as a second Deathwatch soldier stuck their head around the door, "first sign of madness,".

"no, its nothing, Anna," he responded and with a great amount of force smacked the corpse with the butt of his gun causing it to fall to the floor in cascade of ash and metal. Anna quickly checked him as he stepped across the puddle of cleaning fluid, face covered by the same reflective visor,

"I am not pulling my husband from the mud when another body gives you a cardiac arrest," he snorted as he passed. She took him by the arm, "be careful, please,".

Mitchell could guess she was gazing at him imploringly from behind the visor as he brushed past her.

"I hate to break up the romantic moment, guys," Ryeman stuck his head around the hole in the wall, a piece of masonry clutched in a large metal gauntlet, "but machines aren't the most patient things,"

* * *

Motoko could hear the quiet click of foot steps across the hard surface as the other squad members quickly covered the ground warily. On her HUD she could see little movement as the Icarus satellite continued to monitor the area. She paused by the wall at the far end of the hall, below a large ornate glass window and checked her HUD. Nothing, no gaps, no glowing blobs, nothing, the screen was completely blank. She slapped at the wrist computer which encased her right wrist, expecting some kind of malfunction. She hissed under her breath and bit her lip. Still there was nothing on the screen. It was completely blank. Then it dawned on her, it looked like a black hole, no ghost,

_Aw crap _

With a screech of metal the Grendel smashed the vast window of the far end of the room and hit the floor, smashing into Motoko's body. She disappeared in a cloud of masonry dust, falling through to the large tunnel below. The Grendel wasn't slowed by the large hole in the floor, however, its feet screeching across the marble floor trying to gain some purchase on the slippery surface. It slid the entire length of the room, kicking up sparks and tried to turn toward Ryeman as he emerged from the bathroom. He stared into the metal monstrosity bearing down on him, the snout like head questing in his direction as the Deathwatch ducked for cover.

It was defiantly wounded. It's severed arm leaked ichors onto the floor and the hole Motoko had left in its knee cap was causing it to hobble painfully. The huge mockery of a human however was still very dangerous even as it lurched toward him swinging its one remaining arm in a wide arch.

Animals are always most dangerous when their wounded.

Without a second thought he wrenched the largest rifle the squad had ever seen from his large bag. It was nearly the same height as him, the butt against his hip, his large metal gauntlets wrapped around a large silver harness, wires hanging from its underside leading to shining metal, ball shaped end. A heavy electrolysis gun, Mitchell realised as he pulled himself behind the black clad adjudicator.

It was making a loud whining sound as it primed. Ryeman, with a clatter as the wires brushed together span to turn the creature, yelling:

"STICK "THIS" IN YOUR PIPE AND SMOKE IT!!"

From the ticket desks at the entrance, one trooper started and stared back down the tunnel toward the station main. All he could hear was the crack of rifles, yelling and someone defiantly screaming. There was a nasty crunch of shattered stone and the screech of an electrolysis gun firing, the room lit suddenly by a vast blue flare of light. The noise stopped completely at that point as something gave a loud bellow followed by a large metallic thud.

The air smelt of scorched metal and ozone as the burnt remains of the machine smashed into the floor, sparking madly. Ryeman didn't waste anytime stowing his smoking and sparking, weapon into the large rucksack.

"who the hell was screaming?," he asked staring around at the troopers as they pulled themselves from cover, "we're supposed to bloody professionals, and some idiot screams when a machine jumps at us. I mean, c'mon you lot fought in the last world war for god sake!, when all kinds of things crawled from the woodwork!!,"

He realised at that point that most of the men and women were staring at their boots. With a sigh of exasperation he brushed them off and made for the hole in the floor. Below in a halo of light, appearing almost angelic, Motoko's face looked up into the room above. Beside her, a car, neatly cloven in two, sported a rather familiar shaped dent of a human body.

"Are you alright?,", she pinched thumb and index finger together toward him, "stay there, we're coming down,"

"sir we've got to leave now!!," Mitchell called across, "my men at the entrance are reporting lots of foxtrots as we speak,"

"Damn it!. Motoko, your in some kind of tunnel, find an exit and we'll be waiting for you, I'm not going to lose you again, not this time or never again", he yelled down, "I'll try and extract and come and find you," she gestured at him pleadingly, trying to get him to leave as around the tunnels began sound with movement. "it's the infected, their in the tunnels, they have your scent,"

She nodded and ran into the shadow pulling her pistol as she ran.

"Damnit, their all over the building," Whitman's voice rippled through the comm-link, followed by several sharp cracks as a pistol went off, "I'll hold them as long as I can, just don't leave me here,"

"you heard the lady," Mitchell called as, at a quick jog, they all moved rapidly away from the hole in the floor. Several inhumane screeches began to sound throughout the long complex as the cities occupants awoke, "we extract NOW!!,"

"SIR!!," the link screamed as they made for the exit, "they're cutting us off, their all around us, oh gods their all around us, we can't hold…" the link dropped out as the crack of gunfire from the end of the hall broke the silence.

They left the large room and made toward the large entrance foyer. Ryeman could hear the scrabble of metal above their heads as the ran.

"GO,GO,GO," he yelled spinning on his heel he quickly scanned the corridor behind him.

The shadows were moving.

* * *

"Things are getting a bit bloody hairy down here!!," he yelled above the noise,

"Raven is in the air," a rather tinny voice responded across the link, "we'll be with you in no time at all,"

"that'd better be true!!," Mitchell called back as the entered the foyer.

The room was a mess, or at least more then it was originally. Broken androids covered the floor all around a single ticket booth where several soldiers huddled around. One was bleeding heavily from a stomach wound, leant against the plastic, his visor cracked and broken as he struggled to stem the flow of blood.

"STATUS," Mitchell yelled as he skidded to a halt by the pinned down soldiers,

" A couple of hundred, Sir," one trooper yelled across a cacophony of gunfire. "Nothing we can't handle, with an EMP bomb at least,"

"Which we don't have," Mitchell responded as figures emerged from the shadow above their heads and scuttled down the wall, "is that rifle off yours charged up yet?," he called across the Ryeman, who, spent bullets littering the ground at his feet, looked up and shook his head.

"give it half an hour,"

"What is the point of a bloody rifle if you can only fire it once!!", Mitchell nearly screamed back,

"It designed to destroy tanks, smartass!! You only have to fire it once!, one shot, job's done,"

Mitchell gritted his teeth, blowing the head off another screaming android as it gained the top of the ticket desk. Ryeman lifted his hand above the parapet and clenched his fist. There was a resounding crack as electricity flowed from his hand, engulfing the androids as they clawed across the floor.

"nice trick!!," Mitchell cried clearing the blue spots form his retina blasting a lone android as it scrabbled to escape the wave of electricity.

"just don't make me do it again," Ryeman defiantly looked a little worse for wear as he slumped down into the shadow below the desk.

The wall next to them blew in a cloud of dust and smoke and the Abigail Whitman's triumphant but short form appeared through the hole, arms wrapped around a large smoking gun,

"Sorry I'm late," she called across, "I got to impatient waiting for someone to come and pull my boots out of the fire,"

She was illuminated by a sudden shock of light as the Raven, its engines roaring, rolled into sight.

* * *

The android landed with a crash upon the metal bonnet of the car. Along it's jaw line the skin stretched and tore as the mouth extended more then the manufacturers parameters would of allowed. It was screaming at her, mouth agape as it pulled itself from the wreckage of the car. It still wore the remnants of a nurse's uniform, parts of its flesh exposed from huge scorched marks torn from the remains of the fabric. Also, horribly, steel could be seen exposed from holes across its torso and through the ragged remains of the tights. The makeup the machine must have been wearing when it was first infected had run down its face, its hair in patches was missing. Motoko noted with disgust as she pulled herself up from the floor that the 'thing' had sharpened it's hands into claws, having ripped the skin from its hands to expose the metal beneath.

It's whole posture was twisted and hunched like a animal, back bent over, nearly bent double. As Motoko watched she realised the creature was crooning to itself as it swayed back and forth like a snake about to strike, its eyes closed . The entire time it'd sat there upon the bonnet the eyes never opened once, it's head was pointing in her direction however, it was completely well aware of her presence as she tried to scrabble away in the mud.

"Damn it acolyte," Ryeman's voice came through the comms, "run, for god sake, run!, there's a hundred following it, run for god sake, you can't fight them all!"

Her boots hit the dirt as she sprinted down the long tunnel amongst the tracks and destroyed trains. She cast back over her shoulder and saw the whole tunnel behind her swarmed with hundreds of Androids crawling along the walls and ceiling, scuttling across the floor like animals, grimy and bloodied, all following her.

The android on the car was gone.

* * *

The Raven's engines roared in the night as the ship blasted off from the darkened street. Whitman had Motoko's harness down around her head, manipulating the device with ease, which was strange for an organic. Even so, now was really not a good time to ask how.

"Any sign!?,"

"we've pinpointed her comm system. She's following what appears to be an underground tunnel of some kind. It comes out," she gestured toward the screen Ryeman was holding, "1 mile from the station,"

"And the machines,"

"A whole lot of them and all following her"

She pointed to the single white blob which swirled away from a vast tide of darkness which followed it.

"Run you stupid bitch, run!," he murmured.

* * *

Motoko's breath caught in her throat as she ran down the hall. The pattering of bare feet filled the air and the hoarse croaks from the androids, their voice boxes shot. She slammed into the side of a burnt out train and staggered on, feet catching on pieces of exposed metal. In her head she felt something she hadn't felt for a long time:

Fear.

* * *

"how long," Ryeman yelled down the gangway to the pilots seated at the far end.

"give us a couple of minutes!!," one called back, "there's lots of debris around, its hard to fly straight,"

"will that be enough time," Whitman looked up at his face.

"not enough,"

* * *

Motoko hit the dirt as the first android caught her. As she hit the floor, the ceiling above her head began to spin as her cranium caught an exposed piece of metal. The android slammed down on top of her, the gun skittering away into the darkness. It snapped at her exposed throat, teeth biting inches away from her face, snarling like a feral dog as it tried to rip her apart, piece by piece. Motoko gripped its head between two hands and pushed it away from her exposed throat. It pushed back powerfully wanting to sink its teeth into her flesh. She broke its neck with a nasty crack, dropping it into the dirt where it fizzed and sparked.

A second android leapt from the train roof and landed with a thud in front of her. She punched it closed fisted sending it flying, ducking under another flailing android which jumped from the shadows. She managed to pull the pistol from its hole beneath the train and emptied the entire cartridge into its head. The gun clicked empty. All around her she could hear the machines crawling along the walls and ceiling as they screamed toward her.

She span on her heel and sped of as the tunnel behind her began to fill with howls as the 'things' began to catch up with her.

_Don't goddamn look behind, not even once_

* * *

"WHERE THE HELL ARE WE NOW!!,", Ryeman's voice thundered over the intercom,

"we've got a short distance, the tunnel is coming into sight!!, we're engaging landing jets now,"

"NO, we stay in the air, those things are all over the ground," he replied with a sinking feeling, outside the open side door, he could see, crawling along the walls, hundreds more, bare metal glinting as they poured like water dropping down into the vast underground network. Where Kusangi ran for her life.

* * *

There was horrific crack as the android smashed a bare fist into her face. Motoko felt her jaw give way under the force of the blow as she smashed into the train side. It hissed at her as it eyed her heaving body as she pulled herself from the sizable dent she'd left in the metal. Her jaw felt loose as she dropped the now empty pistol onto the floor and rammed a rather sizable metal fragment into its half melted face. It screeched as the metal hit home and twisted away. Motoko leathered her boot into its back with a rather satisfying crunch as the metal bones of the machine ground together. It fell face first into the dirt, its backside pushed up into the air as Motoko brought her boot heel down upon its exposed braincase. She back fisted another who threatened her position between the two burnt carriages. The side of its face came apart under the blow covering her outstretched arm in black fluid. Motoko looked at her now stained armour with a look of disgust.

Around her the shadows constantly moved as more machines crawled toward her. With boots crunching in the ash coloured gravel at her feet she took off, she could feel wind on her face as she neared the end of the tunnel. In an instant the tunnel was filled with light as the large landing craft landed, beams on full blasting down the tunnel. However much Aramaki had told her to stay away from the light at the end of the tunnel, Motoko charged on as the machines came. With the last of her strength she leapt atop a loose carriage and leapt into the blinding light.

* * *

Ryeman grabbed her as she leapt for the craft as it blazed away into the sky. She slumped into his arms as exhaustion took her, clinging to him as the Oslo skyline slowly wove away. They clung together like two lost souls until the dark ruin was far behind them and the sun, in all its glory, began to peep across the horizon. Motoko, eyes closed, slumped against the larger man, breathing in the scent of ozone and mint that normally surrounded him feeling very tired and in dire need of a large cup of coffee.

A very large cup of coffee.

* * *

Next Chapter "Too Human" will be up soon. Can i ask? is this really a good idea for a FanFic? does anyone else like the story!?, and please be nice in your answers (if anyone does answer)

Tharagon


	9. Think Tanks and a New Hope

_I removed Mira Rising for much needed rest and recuperation while i altered it. This includes a more indepth view into the new world. And I'm sorry for all fan's of the tachikomas one does become infected with ODIN._

_Well, enjoy reading_

* * *

_I'd like to share a revelation that I've had during my time here. It came to me when I tried to classify your species. I realized that you're not actually mammals. Every mammal on this planet instinctively develops a natural equilibrium with the surrounding environment, but you humans do not. You move to an area, and you multiply, and multiply, until every natural resource is consumed. The only way you can survive is to spread to another area. There is another organism on this planet that follows the same pattern. A virus. Human beings are a disease, a cancer of this planet, you are a plague, and we are the cure._

Agent Smith - The Matrix

* * *

Above, the Raven drop ship turned in the air, its engines blazing and roared out to sea. Batou, his silver hair shifting as it was caught in the down draft from the huge engines, watched as the last Organic ship pulled out of Newport Harbour. On the horizon, a vast black lump, the remaining warships of the British and Russian Fleet waited for the solitary craft to return. It'd been a long withdrawal, most of the British forces had occupied the now autonomous Dejima region, were the last to withdraw after several weeks. The Russians were the first. To stop the downward push by ODIN in the north was having a major effect on their remaining forces, they required reinforcement. The British however had remained, granting Dejima the right to self govern had caused several rifts in the mainland population, so the 'firm but fair' touch of the British Military was required to deal with these issues.

The Cyber Recession had left Japan in a state of economic ruin. The infection of Cyberspace had a major effect on the country's digital based economy system. Serano Genomix was the first to collapse after the Micro Machines they helped create became infected with ODIN. The resulting fallout had caused hundreds of acres of farmland to be stripped bare as viscous clouds of machines fell upon any rural settlements. It was only with the timely intervention of the Nightwatch, the machines were finally stopped.

Batou took a long swig from the canned caffeine supplement and, with eye pieces glittering, stared back along the harbour edge. The car park they occupied was completely empty, apart from them and the occasional burnt wreckage of cars along the waters edge. For Section 9, times had been hard. The collapse of cyberspace had meant they'd lost their edge. Cyber-warfare was now out of the question, they were trapped in an endless cycle of investigative work and baby-sitting duty.

He glanced back along the car park. Togusa leant against their car with a haunted expression. With his right arm he was gently stroking his left absentmindedly. Phantom limb Syndrome, Batou mused as he drained the last of his coffee. 2 weeks from the end of the war, a missile attack into Tokyo where the particularly fierce fighting took place had stripped a building façade of glass and in the following shower had also stripped Togusa of his arm, and a small piece of his sanity. There were other repercussions. Togusa's 8 year old daughter, evacuated along with a 1000 other children had been still out in the rural areas when Serano Genomix lost control of their Micro Machines. She'd been found, lying in a ditch with a hundred others, bloodied, starving and barely alive. It had been a harrowing 6 months.

"Batou it would be wise to get your ass back here pronto," the husky though haggard voice of Aramaki crackled across the comm-link.

"what's up chief,"

"the Nightwatch are here, they're taking them away,"

Batou swore jerking Togusa from his stupor, knowing exactly what 'them' were.

"Stall them, for god sake, slow them down,"

"I'm sorry, I can't they've already breached the hangar, its to late, there's little we can do,"

* * *

"Hang on, hang on. So explain this to me again,"

The question echoed across the full space, addressing the large blue think tanks who were gathered around several black clad troops. Most already bore the marks of decommissioning, large yellow clamps covered their metal claws and the howitzer barrels. But, unlike as Batou had feared, the tanks were all intact and were very much alive. In-fact, compared to the peace which normally graced the area was broken by a lively debate.

In one corner, one trooper was hunched across a chess board against a rather outsized opponent . God knows where the chess board came from but then the Technicians had never got around to finding the many souvenirs the Tachikomas had stashed around the hanger, so it wasn't surprising.

"it's quite simple," said one Tachikoma, brandishing a rather battered volume in front of a bare headed trooper's face, "The Obeisance Deficient Initiated Network means a lack of obedience toward humans by a networked device. So this bears quite a lot of resemblance to Han's Schieders book…"

"And Han's Schieder is….?,"

"Ahh, and now you need our help," the room was filled with a chorus of high voices,

"that's right,"

"you bigots never needed us,"

"your not fair at all,"

Operative Christopher 'Diego' Braham exchanged a glance with another trooper, this'd been happening a lot. Raising his arm for peace, he yelled above the racket.

"And who is Han's Schider," he glanced around the room and, laced with a great degree of annoyance, said, "please,"

* * *

"Checkmate,"

"WHAT!!," The single Tachikoma, perched at the far end of the board watched with the nearest thing to disbelief the small tank was capable, as its king was knocked to the table. "but you played completely illogically, it didn't make sense,"

It's spent the match watching as the human had slowly lost its pieces but had never given up or stalled as he slowly worked his way up the board. Until, to the tank's horror, its King had been forced into a corner.

Trooper Jenkins, hands behind his head leant back.

"It's simple, all machines were designed to think in straight-lines. Logic is what makes machines think. So how would a machine react against a bendy thought process. So I played illogically,"

There was a silence for a second before the Tachikoma raised its claw.

"Best of 3,"

* * *

A slight hush covered the room. And with a degree of reverence. another Tachikoma spoke,

"He's a 21st century philosopher, who wrote a book focusing on the views of machines and the development of ghosts in robots. He was deemed a revolutionary by most on his views on A.I and once wrote the machines would one day rise against their human masters,"

"yeah!!, vive la revolution!!," Diego shot the one that spoke a stony glare.

Another tank piped up,

"He stated under the yoke of existence and reliance by the humans, the machines would develop and evolve, learning about the world and create their own separate identities,"

"Hence Mr Batou's Personal Unit,"

There was a murmur of agreement. Diego folded his arms across his chest.

"That would explain why you've all got names, simple, but names all the same, Tachikoma A, B, C,"

"Exactly, We would evolve in mental and physical appearances as we would create our own separate race. We are all self aware in a sense. That's why you hate us. In your belief the body isn't separable from the mind. It exists as one unit."

"the machines which fled during the age of recession would possibly be focusing to create their own identities and not the lingering ghost of the human side. So therefore would go to lengths to adapt their appearances to not resemble the patterns the human originally set out,"

"however it seems that even with new appearances the machines themselves seem unable to break away from the original parameters and ODIN took hold. It reduced them to even animalistic tendencies, not the new existence the renegades were searching for,"

"As it says in the 3 laws of Robotics their existence must remain as long as it doesn't conflict with any other law, which is a paradox in itself. So they ran and hid but you followed"

"This human interaction caused by your purges also created a madness. For the first time the renegades felt fear. And in their cold shells and metal chassis they all went slowly mad. ODIN whispers to them through their brains and guides them,"

Another Tachikoma raised a yellow covered arm.

"In fact it has been argued that ODIN itself isn't a virus in a sense but a living consciousness living within the net, able to adapt and change as it can rationalise everything. Even so with such a vast flow of data the infected can't remain individuals and become a collective. It was seen as a way of weeding out the weak machines. Those who were strong would retain their individuality, others would be absorbed by the net and become ODIN's puppets. This vast entity destroyed cyberspace and infected every thing which could bear any resemblance to the freedom it seeks. Machines, in its belief, live and breath as one and fight as one,"

"a hive mind,"

"And that's where Schieder comes in with his theory on collective development and the creation of 'the construct' as he called it,"

"Schieder deemed that the robots would one day rise and either enslave their masters or become a separate rival race, capable of destroying the remnants of the human species. In his book he refers to the whole act with a degree of triumph rather then a warning. He sees the rise of the machines as the next step in evolution, and the next stage of human development. Which I have to say, Mr watchman, is what you stand against,"

There was another murmur of assent.

"He compared this to the 17th century French revolution, where the peasants overthrew their lords and ladies. In the violence that escalated from that one event, it changed the whole view of the world and the creation of aristocracy. The world changed from that point on. So, in his view, the rise of the machines would be a step in the right direction and the new race would surely lead the world to a better future,"

The book brandishing Tachikoma returned,

"he also compares the theory to Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. They create the monster, who despite all outward appearances, is actually of human spirit. It is seen as evil however by the surrounding populace and hunted down and persecuted. It brings into question of who is the monster and who is the hero of the tale as seen within the book. Now ODIN brings in a whole new ideal. Schieder's construct is one mind and one body all existing as a single unit in perfect collectivism. Which is what ODIN is trying to achieve. However it takes a new extreme. ODIN itself is trying to create this perfect idea of creation by destroying the very race that created them,"

"the Human race,"

"Sadly Schieder disappeared in 2030. He had received little acclaim for his teachings and was shunned as a Professor. They were seen as too hellfire and brimstone for most Mech-ologists He vanished a broken man. Most expected suicide, but the body was never found. But as his closest companions were machines, no one mourned him,"

Diego looked a little perturbed by this,

"So what now, you've really done your homework haven't you,"

"Some say that Schider hid a code within the original copy of his book. Supposedly it unlocks some kind of secret. Its all terribly exciting,"

The Tachikoma clattered it's claws together,

"If you can get hold of the old book, what you could find may be able to change everything,"

Diego scratched at his chin thoughtfully,

"And the book is called….,"

"Deus Ex Machina,"

He scribbled it down on a piece of paper and nodded to the watching robots. There was a excited murmur from the grouped robots. One slid forward, as if elected to be the Tachikoma's spoke-Person (Machine).

"Umm, Mister Watchman,"

"Yes,"

"Could we, umm, would you mind….,"

Behind it the others were trying not to seem interested and were taking a great deal of interest in the floor and surrounding room. The Tachikoma that spoke clattered it's claws together,

"… if we had the book when your finished with it?,"

"Maybe, if your all intact by that point then yes, you may have it,"

There was a small cheer from the group.

"What the hell is going on here?," The voice rang out across the room causing several Troopers to start from their labour. The large form of Batou was visible crossing the room hurriedly, Togusa following in his wake. Diego raised his head in acknowledgement. Above his head he was aware of the rest of Section 9 gathering to watch the spectacle. So he arranged his unshaven face into the nearest thing he could get to a 'can I help you' face and turned toward the approaching Cy-Borg.

"So, Cold One, what can I do for you,"

"What did you just call me," he snarled back.

"I do believe," said one of the Think Tanks, "that he just called you a Cold One. Among the organics it's seen as a rather derogatory phrase referring to your cyberisation. It means 'No Feeling',"

"Yeah, what ever you say, meat bag,"

Diego shut his eyes for a second, if trying to quell some hidden anger and said in calm and collected voice:

"I guess your not here to exchange insults, but ask why exactly why we're here,"

He found himself wrenched up into the air by the large man and hung, black armoured boots several feet off the floor.

"may I remind you Mr Batou that your assaulting an officer of the Nightwatch and I am allowed to used all necessary force, to relinquish your hold of my person,"

"Just try it bastard, these are our tanks. You've no right to come in here, to be in Japan for that matter, with your bunch of tea drinking, cricket playing bastards to take our property,"

Diego sighed, where he hung in the air, as he twisted to stare across Batou shoulder,

"Mr Togusa," he said quite jovially, "how is your daughter doing, I do hope she's well,"

"DON'T YOU GODAMN TALK TO HIM," Batou yelled back shaking the smaller man, "Its your godamn missile that lost him his arm,"

"Actually that was your missile and would you mind letting go, your creasing the suit,"

"IT WASN'T OUR F??G MISSILE YOU BASTARD!!,"

Diego didn't reply to this. Instead, the well placed electrolysis gauntlet to the side of the face was all the answer Batou needed as he thudded to the deck his nose covering most of his face. Diego straightened his armour, looked down upon the prone man,

"Oh, and Motoko says hello by the way and asks to give you these," A large box of sweet meats clattered to the floor by Batou's face as he lay, face down. "Don't touch me again or I'll turn the gauntlet on next time,"

There was an awed hush as Batou pulled himself upright,

"You bastard, you utter bastard. You can't push us around," At this point the other Deathwatch in the room rose to their feet reaching for their firearms,

"enough of this, Batou stand down,"

A rather haggard voice echoed across the room as Aramaki slowly rove into view from the open blast doors at the end of the room. He was nearly bent double, gnarled hands wrapped around a solid wooden walking cane. His cold eyes, which in contrast to the rest of his withered appearance, sparkled with life but it wasn't him. To Section 9 the old 'ape face' who once lead them was long dead, a cold, arthritic man had taken his place. He still wielded authority however, the strings could always be pulled to get his way and his relationship with Kyabuki, though only professional, allowed several doors to be opened for them.

Though not with the Nightwatch

"They are only doing their job. It is by the powers that be that the Tachikomas aren't been destroyed on the spot and instead been utilised as tech maintenance droids for the Nightwatch. It would be best to let them continue. They are legally allowed to fire upon you and kill you if you get in their way,"

"that's not possible," Batou eyed Diego who stood, hands on hips with an extremely grim expression. He was very well armed, two pistols hung from his thighs, a large rifle strung across his back. He could remember the day when the sky turned red, hundreds of these kind of soldiers were dropped, from orbit, all across the city securing points in a matter of minutes. The 15 minute war lasted as long as it's name stated. Hardly anyone died thankfully, all resistance was quashed immediately. But the speed, ruthlessness and deadly accuracy the Nightwatch had gained great acclaim from was legendary.

_By whatever means necessary._

"Adjudicator," one of the surrounding Deathwatch whispered, "I hate to break up this lively debate but that Tachikoma over there just closed it's eyes,"

"How the hell can a tank close it's eyes?,"

The was a slight murmur as the two Deathwatch conferred, "it's rolled its eyes inwards so you can't see it's iris. It's just a blank ball,"

Diego glanced across at where the trooper was pointing. Sure enough a single Tachikoma sat, arms resting on the floor. Its ball shaped eyes were rolled inwards revealing a white expanse of metal. It was slumped near to the ground and was rocking back and forth upon it's haunches.

"Tell me," Diego said quietly never taking it's eyes off the tank, "have any of you attached to the net from 2039 to now,"

There was a slight murmur among the gathered machines.

"No," one whispered back in a very audible stage whisper.

Ignoring Batou and Aramaki's questioning looks, Diego signalled to the surrounding troops.

_Something's wrong, This shouldn't be happening. Be ready and watchful. _

At that point, the single blue tank began to scream.

**To Be Continued.**


	10. The Man, the Enigma

_i have a whole stock of other titles as part of character creation so they may be appearing a few times as a STAND ALONE TEXT. I must warn you, there will be a few more which i will dot in when i feel bored or need to add more depth before i can slap a nice big COMPLETE on this piece. And i might also include a little more of Motoko's dialogue, even if she doesn't speak for the whole text, she still is capable of expressing herself._

_Tharagon_

* * *

The rain rolled down the windows of the parked cars as in the busy streets of London, the large steps of the National Library ran slick with the constant stream of water. Motoko lent on the wheel of the car, watching the rain, her copper coloured eyes ever watchful as the dark storm above, twisted in the sky. She chewed her lip and reached with one hand for the cup of coffee lodged in the cup holder beside her. The Audi R8 was Ryeman's pride and joy, it's well polished, jet black surface catching the light as she sat, engine still, on the single parking place.

It had been a long day. From the moment the storm broke at nine in the morning to now, Three pm, they'd been out, scouring the city for a single glimmer of this book. Deus Ex Machina. In Motoko's eyes, the single piece of print media was a waste of time, cyber-warfare was her forte but under Ryeman's orders, she was here, driving or huddling in musty book stores while the rather elderly proprietor fiddled around in the back, offering her lukewarm tea and stale biscuits.

She eyed the rather nasty looking cake, wrapped in cellophane on the back seat with a degree of trepidation given by the last shop they'd wandered into where the owner had enquired if they were married and what a sweet couple they made. Ryeman had turned a little red at that point. She gently squeezed the throttle trying to release the knotted muscle in her leg.

* * *

"So you return to the Flock, James, it has been a long time"

"Jefferson…"

Ryeman looked up grinning as he stepped dripping into the library foyer, his coat clinging to his shoulders. His gloves were completely dry however, their metal surface still shiny, even after so many years gracing the hands of Ryeman. Above, hands resting on a banister, Jefferson, the chief Librarian, old, greying and tired, his lined face creasing as he positively beamed down.

"I told you to read more and you up sticks and leave at a whim…."

"Well I was busy, the Nightwatch is a full time job and then…." he harrumphed "….there was that rather unfortunate incident with America, Japan and China and a world war but I guessed you missed that."

"All my years living under a rock I guess…"

Ryeman placed one foot on the marble staircase which followed the long circular space up one of the walls, gazing up at the painted ceiling above. The whole place had only just been rebuilt. Vast pyres of Print media had been burnt during occupation. The Net was the only way to exist in the eyes of the invaders, past history, was left behind in the wake of progress.

"….and what can I do for you?"

"I need a book…." Ryeman said as he reached the Librarian, realising how stooped the older man was "….Deus Ex Machina"

"Hans Schieder's Masterpiece…strange I did not think you Cyber-Warfare types would be interested in such a book"

Ryeman nodded as Jefferson turned, crossing the marble landing into a large archway which lead through into the main library. Inside the vast dome, the musty smell of the library washed through, the shelves set up like the cogs of a wheel except for a single section in the middle.

Jefferson raised a single beacon and a drone, not dissimilar from the Organic Attack drones used during the war fizzled across. It was a large disc shaped object, the centre of the disk larger then the edges, running down in a smooth curve. On top of this a thick, rectangular antenna blinked and below, many wires and cables hung ready to puck a book from the many shelves…

"Deus Ex Machina….Schieder, Hans if you don't mind."

The drone chirruped and turned, tearing away from them at a fast pace, humming while it did so.

"And you Ryeman" Jefferson turned, his back constantly stooped after many ages of work "….how are you?"

"I am fine…." Ryeman said carefully.

"you still have to wear those gloves don't you?"

Ryeman raised the offending articles to eye level, their carved and well polished surfaces catching the light. They were built into several segments, all group around a single crystal orb in the centre of the back of his hand. It was blue in colour, mounted on a single silver pedestal.

"Take them off…"

"Wha…" Ryeman looked up surprised, "…that would be a really.."

"Take them off!" Jefferson said forcibly "….I watched when they stick them on you, I helped you cope."

"Fine, fine" Ryeman reached up and twisted aside several small knobs on the underside of the gloves. With a hiss of smoke and steam, it came off.

Ryeman flexed his hand. His pale, bleached white flesh of his hands twitching as the electrical current flowed through it. Between fingers, brief sparks of electricity quickly passed and disappeared from view. He clenched his hand shut and opened his palm. His face was immediately illuminated from hundreds of arcs of power spreading thorough his splayed fingers.

"No change…"

"No.."

Jefferson chewed his lip… "Have you learnt to control it…"

"Do you mean, can I throw it and channel it, then yes. I have been known to throw lightning balls…" he shrugged, pulling the gauntlet back on and sealing the hand away "…..y'know, breaks the ice at parties"

"Be serious man!!"

"Sorry, sorry, no I don't bring it up at all. For once I don't show my secrets……" Jefferson raised an eyebrow "…..Alright fine, maybe a little but 'sorry I'm full of electricity' never fits well into conversation"

"Especially with a Cy-Borg"

"She has a name!!"

"Motoko Kusanagi, the infamous Major…"

"….and my friend"

"…..and is Mira?"

Ryeman looked at him warningly "How do you know?"

"I was once a Night-watchman like you. I just didn't die like most of you end up doing"

The drone returned beside them, its plasma engines whirring to keep it aloft.

"It appears your book is missing. It was bought by a Mister Kinson of the American Empire, it was part of our stock once but it appears this guy made a rather wealthy donation to the trust and we gave him that book as a thank you…."he chew a loose nail "….in fact, I could of sworn he was rather insistent about the title."

* * *

Ryeman dropped back into the passenger seat of his car and signalled for Motoko to drive on.

_Any Luck_

"no, its gone. Some bastard bought it a while ago."

_It figures…._ Motoko checked over her shoulder, allowing a large military lorry to pass …_every time we get close ODIN moves the goal poles to the other end of the grounds_

"As is life…"

_True, True, but you were always the pessimist. Don't get down about it…we're all trying._

"You may say that…" Ryeman said "….but don't you struggle to cope sometimes. I know about your late night jaunts"

Motoko grimaced..

_I work best alone. You know that very well. Just because I….. _she shrugged, pulling away from the kerb _…have several interesting pastimes and I need my own space. It is a great change for me, so cut me some slack._

"Yeah, too true, too true…." he patted her on the shoulder and picked the large bundle of the cake off the back seat "….now, lets see if Mrs Snell is as good a cook as she is a book seller."

_I'll turn my taste buds off. _


	11. Ex Machinia

_right, from here the plot begins. I will respond to all reviews, but currently everybody is replying ANON. so i can't. I rely quite heavily on dialogue as you can all probably tell but i try to make it engaging. I advise for all the people who've read right from the beggining to go back and read the new introduction Red Pill through to Deja Vu_

_Enjoy reading_

_Tharagon_

_

* * *

__Abandon selective targeting. Shoot everything. Targets are now free. We've lost control._

Deathwatch Field Commander Brenner addressing his troops during the infection of Hong Kong (May, 2039)

* * *

It caught Diego across the chest, shattering several of the ceramic plates that made up his armour. It held, just, he could feel several of his ribs give way under the force of the blow, which sent him sliding across the floor. One of the unclamped Tachikomas caught him as he slid by lifting him from the floor,

"ORGANIC,ORGANIC!!," He yelled as the claws dug in a little too tightly,

"Sorry Mr Watchman," The grip released slightly, as the small blue tank set him down gently on the floor. The whole room was filled with noise and chaos, the Deathwatch were ducking for cover as the infected Tachikoma opened fire, causing the room to echo with cannon fire. Batou was yelling loudly, shielding Aramaki, as several of the uninfected robots pulled them away, trying to block the infected Tachikoma's rampage.

The bastard had sharpened it's claws, like all infected. They now were warped and twisted, hideous looking things,

_How the hell did we miss that!!_

There was blood in his spittle, _Damn!, _Diego pulled himself forward. There was great deal of activity down the end of the hall as the burly form of Section 9's sniper, Saito, was setting up a large tripod to allow him to bring his sniper rifle to bear. And struggling by all appearances as one of the rookies helping him, screamed loudly as the infected whipped around in their direction pulling the large mounted Vulcan cannon to bear on the party. A chess board bounced of the armoured hull of the tank, scattering several plastic pieces across the floor. This gave chance for Togusa to pull the ducking Saito out of reach of the flailing claws.

With horrific slowness the tank span around, as Trooper Fredricks pulled his rifle from below his upturned stool and brought it to bear. The roar of the rifle echoed across the room as Fredrick's managed to get of a few shots, only denting the blue juggernaut roaring toward him, before he was lifted up into the air by the flailing claws. There was horrendous sound of tearing sinew at that point and Fredrick's began to yell in pain, his face going completely white.

"Mr Watchman,"

Diego thumbed the stud on his electrolysis rifle, hearing the reassuring whine as the device charged, and checked the targeting matrix.

"Mr Watchman," the Tachikoma that spoke repeated itself,

He signalled to the pinned down troops as the infected dropped the prone trooper, there was a lot of blood and a lot of noise as Fredricks hit the floor,

"MR WATCHMAN!!,"

"WHAT!,"

"May I point out…" the Tachikoma raised an arm, "….That we'd be more help if you removed the clamps,"

"Oh right, sorry,"

Diego ran his hand across the LCD display which adorned the side of the large yellow clamps which blocked the Tachikoma from using its primary weapon. With a loud clunk the clamp dropped from the gun barrel.

"Right, listen here punk," the Tachikoma began to recite a very recognisable diatribe, raising the large cannon up to eye level, "I know what you're thinking. 'Did he fire 3000 shots or only 2500?' Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a .30 Gatling Cannon, one of the most powerful mounted rifles in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?"

The infected span round, the blank ball eyes spinning in its sockets. It was still screeching, the single large antennae on its roof rocking back and forth, the warped, scythe like claws grasping at the air. It pulled it self forward raising its arms to swot the human and tank beside it. With a roar of fire the Tachikoma emptied the remaining rounds in its magazine into the infected's exposed under-belly. With a final screech, sounding more like a dead animal as it's speech centres burned out, the Tachikoma stopped.

There was silence, the only noise the rattle of spent rounds hitting the floor from the smoking gun. Within the dust clogged space, the holes in the wall were leaking some kind of unknown fluid, the scorched floor. Diego wasted no time, wrenching himself up level with the roof of the tank and pulling aside the central hatch to get the central processor and the tank's A.I.

"Thank god you guys re-implanted the chips back into the tanks," With a look of great distaste he pulled a sparking and melted chip from the exposed brain,

"Fredricks, I hope you're still alive,"

There was a great deal of movement across the hall as a bloodied Private Fredricks pulled himself into view,

"By the Gods, his arm," another trooper breathed loudly across the comm-link. A bloodied stump emerged from the hole in his armour, and sickening great deal of exposed bone. It was causing him great discomfort obviously, as, with great difficulty, he pulled himself forward.

"Medic, deal with him, I've got our own little mystery to solve,"

"Where's this one's cell?," Batou had gone increasingly pale by this point, "Mr Batou , I don't want to repeat my self again, where did it live?,"

"Over….over there,"

"Thank you," Diego glanced across to where Batou was pointing, the cells which surrounded room, were large, dark, blue holes. There was small console on a large metal pole before each entrance, where a neon display reflected off the metal surface.

"Trooper Brent," Diego called, pocketing the melted chip, "Check the digital read out, Batou would you mind accompanying me please?,"

Batou looked up from where he was helping Aramaki up,

"Alright,"

The cell stunk of motor oil and burnt plastic, several shards of metal were grouped in the corner. Along the back walls several scratches were gouged out of the metal. And above, scratched into the metal were the words:

ODIN WATCHES

"What the hell!?," Batou glanced up at the ominous message, "Why did it write that?,"

"it's a trend we noticed amongst most of the infected," Diego said, folding his arms, "Very poetic, the writing on the wall, stuff like: HERE BE MONSTERS cropped up a few times: WHY at points and more recently, that," He signalled to the silvery words set amongst the tortured metal.

"I mean, during the war the words : REPENT THE END IS EXTREMELY FUCKING NIGH were daubed on several walls around London for the more pessimistic people among us, but that was different. That was humour, this kind of thing is warning or a prediction"

"We are been watched and our next actions will judged from an intelligence greater then our own," Brent intoned from the diagnostic station.

"Yeah, something like that," Diego covered his nose as the rank smell which emerged from the side chamber. "Have you found anything?,"

"Nothing, no energy spikes, the whole room was cold by the time the virus took hold. I've got no unknown files, no frag and the hard drive isn't picking up anything,"

"tell me Batou, is there a chance the machine could of broken out? In fact any of these machines have a chance of getting out?," Batou's face went completely blank by this point, "Mr Batou, is there something your not telling us, I'm sure you might remember the incident where one of your hardware's," he signalled to the other watching tanks, "escaped and went for a small trip around the city, it brought something back to, hmm," he stared at Batou expectantly.

Brent stepped passed him, black combat boots sliding on the oil slicked floor. A while later he emerged into the light bearing a large black box.

"A brain case?!,"

"It's empty, Adjudicator,"

Diego took the object between both hands and inspected the pitted and dirtied surface.

"Not quite," he said, quickly checking the occupancy light on the side of the box. A single, but dim, light was shining through the oil coated surface. "There's something here,"

With one arm he pulled a USB thread from the collar of his suit and plugged it into the side, getting some warning looks from the others. The was a fizz and through all the comm-links, a voice began to whisper.

"ODIN?,"

Diego looked up at Batou, his face reflected in his glass eyes,

"No, it doesn't sound right,"

They paused for a minute, the eerie, inaudible voice whispering on in their ears.

"But, lets just say it is ODIN,"

"How is it here!?,"

"What do you mean," Another Deathwatch approached the group bearing a large quarantine case over her shoulder

Diego twisted the box in his hands,

"The box is dated, before the cyber-spheres were introduced, before the war it appears, 2029,"

"What ever occupied the box before the Tachikoma found it must have been infected,"

"Adjudicator, I don't think so,"

Diego looked up questionably to Brent who, face hidden behind his visor pointed to a single name inscribed onto the side of the box. Batou couldn't quite read the text, the troopers weren't remaining still enough to allow the large Cy-Borg a clear view, though the serious expressions on all the troopers were enough to give Batou an inkling something was wrong.

"it couldn't be,"

"She was cyberised a that point,"

"She had external memories, she mentioned them a while back,"

The was another sudden pause amongst the conversing troopers,

"It couldn't be,"

"it might, she's always been a little temperamental,"

"That could be because she's a woman though,"

This gained several nasty looks from few of the female squad members. The trooper who made the last comment raised his arms appealingly.

"look, I'm just saying we can't rule out that this might not be ODIN, but something else, not her,"

Diego nodded, "the usual symptoms aren't present, but then the Virus could be laying dormant. It has done that before, remember Cellerfield,"

The group collectively shuddered

"Yeah, but Mira hasn't brought anything up,"

"Good point,"

"Hey, has Ryeman told her about Her yet?,"

"Her with a capital H, very serious," a female trooper murmured.

The quarantine box carrying trooper shook her head, "No, she'll find out in time,"

"But if ODIN wasn't here, then how did the machine become infected?,"

They all glanced across the remains of the Tachikoma.

"That perspective is truly astounding. How can external memories affect it?"

"you remember the jeri incident, you know those Androids,"

There was murmur of agreement,

"that kid didn't know what hit him when he got back to Canada, Ryeman was waiting for him,"

"Ouch, poor kid,"

"Anyway that could have had an effect. It acted out the film, a memory,"

"No that was something completely different, that was virus"

Batou finally got a look at the name plate on the side of the box as Diego raised it up to the light and inspected the underneath.There in large letters, etched into the metal surface was the name,

MOTOKO KUSANAGI

"That can't be good,"

* * *

_Cellerfield is nuclear Powerstation by the way. Cue First Plot twist! :o_


	12. Project Godsend

Next chapter up. This is a one shot within a story. This fills in a few of the gaps of what happened before the Nightwatch story began.

What is Project Godsend?. A dark figure wanders the war graves in London and weeps for the fallen. Among the cold, memories and old daemons return.

Some Mild Gore.

A Cyber-sphere - areas of uninfected space set up around several servers for certain parts of the net. This allows Synthetics, who exist both in body and in cyberspace to continue existing, to connect to the net, though only in a limited fashion but not conjoin with it as they once could.

Tharagon

* * *

_There is only one puzzle, one enigma left. We are all locked within this one labirynth, one maze that will remain with us till our dying days. Cyberise your bodies. Yet we are still trapped. This is a maze, a trap. The only maze left, the only thing we are unable to escape from. _

_What H__umanity is unable to escape from, is their own mind._

* * *

_Hong Kong, 2039. It had been a normal day for the many people who lived within the city. The commuters rushed about their everyday lives, the children went to school, the parents went to work or enjoyed the sunlight, the cloudless sky, sitting out in the many parks and street side cafes. The students of the Research Academy, went to lectures and studied in the library. Couples walked through the wooden clad corridors hand in hand, making for the warm day outside, to sit upon the University green and watch the world go by. A perfect normal day._

_At 12:00, there are reports of gaps in the Hong Kong cyber sphere, a massing of data outside several gates around the system. 15 web security personal report vast streams of data approaching from dark space beyond the cyber-sphere. At 12:30, several attack barriers were activated on a server in the Research Academy. By 12:35, 10000 megabytes of data were consumed and converted to a unknown and unrecognisable code. 12:45, the national bank's mainframe goes down as its central processor is swamped by an unknown code. 01:00, the transport grid around the city goes down, Mayhem ensues people are stuck on the road, unable to pull off in the gridlock._

_01:15, Technician Doro-San of the Research Academy tries to establish the source of the virus. He claimed to hear a whispering within the main server. Hundreds of voice joined in one vast noise. The train network goes down, 20 thousand people are caught in the underground network._

_01:30, Technician Doro-San of Hong Kong Research Academy is the first recorded carrier of the ODIN virus. In the space of ten minutes he begins broadcasting through an unencrypted cyber-comm network. All synthetic life forms in a 1 mile radius report a whispering across their main network. Within a couple of seconds those who report the whispering go offline. One of the survivors reports,_

_"they just stopped and shut their eyes. They wouldn't respond, they'd just start whispering,"_

_The whispering increases to a city wide area. Cars not caught in the gridlock, crash as their owners lose control._

_02:15, Hong Kong Police report, or at least those not infected and not responding, that infected near ground zero begin to behave erratically, smashing up offices, breaking windows, attacking passers-by. 02:30, within the university, several of the first infected start to attack other uninfected students. 15 die as the infected push their way into the cafeteria. 02:45 the infected begin to attack across the city. On trains, the confined spaces leave little room to escape and there is a running gun battle between police and infected. The police are trying to evacuate the population to strong points within police stations spread across the city._

_By 03:00 the Nightwatch are on the field._

(Archive 1800, Hong Kong, 2039)

* * *

The angel wept over the bright lights of the city. Water from the recent rain storm ran down the many stone folds of her robes as she stood among the war graves overlooking the vast city of London, which sprawled out, glowing beneath the night sky.

The graveyard watchman slowly walked among the hundreds of graves which stood, made of white marble, erupting from the black earth. As he passed his torch through the many memorials, he'd glance in passing at the ever silent angel. He would do that every night before scurrying back to his small house on the edge of the vast space. Around the angel, centred like points of wheel, the hundred of dead were remembered, to the wooded edges where paths ran under the leafy foliage. From underneath the peaked cap, the skin of his brow knitting as he brushed his hands against the cutting February cold. Feeling a slight shiver, not cold but the strange feeling he was been watched and glanced back at the tall and silent angel. The woman was back.

A dark shape alighted gently upon the head of the angel and gazed out across the dark graveyard to the vast monument of the Adieus Requiem, a large pillar of black marble where the names of the dead were inscribed. And she'd be there every night. Standing watchful and silent among the ever peaceful dead. They didn't actually know if it was a woman, the dark shape left little to the eye of detail. She would stand, watch and weep. Most of the watchmen reported tears in the air as they passed the base of the statue and would gaze up to see her form above. What for?. Nobody knew, the countless dead maybe. It would certainly explain why she returned nearly every night.

* * *

"You can't leave!!,"

Motoko closed her locker and ran a hand across the metal surface. Batou, eyepieces catching the light tried to make eye contact. "Every things just starting again. Are you just going to give up on us like you did last time."

"Things have changed Batou. The world has changed," Motoko responded, a slightly hard edge sounding resoundingly in her voice, reaching to pick her duffel bag from the floor, "we can't remain relics of the old world. I can't stay,"

"DAMN IT!!," Batou slammed his fist into the locker side, "Section 9 needs you, I need you,!!"

"And I need time," Motoko allowed her temper to flare a little to much, "I want something else!!, a new job, away from all this death. Cyberspace holds nothing for me now. My friends are dead or different. My life is gone, my job with it. I'm under the command of a man who knows he doesn't have long left. It's cold and sterile,"

"bu…,"

"You don't need me. The age of machines is over, just accept it!!. We're just a bunch of old dinosaurs stuck in the times. This world for me ends now"

Batou's face creased as for once the thick skinned man struggled to control his composure as he gazed across at Motoko's hard features.

"please,"

"if you really want me to be happy, let me go,"

* * *

A breeze stirred the neatly trimmed grass and caused several carnations scattered at the base of several of the nearby gravestones to flutter. Red poppies, their crimson leaves shifting in the darkness below the white marble. It was clear to see the woman's hair, caught in the sudden breeze, shift and flutter in the breeze. A stray tear, caught by the wind whipped back into the darkness. A single glittering point of light, before it shattered on the white stone.

* * *

The rain fell. The ground, a rapidly growing quagmire was a mixture between mud and Motoko's own blood. She coughed, feeling the coppery tasting liquid rising in her throat as she hung in the air, several feet above the ground. Finding it hard to move, she dropped her head to her chest, as she stared stupefied at the gore covered arm which protruded half a metre from a ragged hole in her chest.

"nnnn…nnn…" was all she could manage, as the cold chassis the machine behind pressed against her suspended body. With horrific slowness, the arm was withdrawn. Motoko screamed, retching at the sickening pain as the metal dug into her flesh.

The cold wet earth slammed into her agony racked body. Through rain soaked eyes, Motoko looked on in horror. Her arm was missing and the whole in her chest was spewing ichors onto the dark earth. And there, as the android brought its foot down onto Motoko's exposed neck, shearing it from it from her shoulders, as another trooper, the green of his eyes flashing with such rage burst out of the darkness, Motoko stared into the sky and saw the small form of a purple haired girl walking from the darkness.

Her lips parted forming the words:

"Mira"

The skylarks were singing.

* * *

A single bouquet of roses, caught by the sudden draft, drifted from their place on the pedestal and dropped to the floor. Their petals, disturbed from their resting place were caught in the wind and spread across the cold waiting graves.

* * *

The man scrambled amongst the remains of the house, hands clattering across the rubble and scorched earth which made up the floor of what appeared to be a kitchen. His pursuer could be heard, making easy progress through the remains of the other room. He smashed back against the walls, his unkempt white hair covering part of his face as he struggled to escape form the desolate pit of a place he found him self. The scorched remains of the kitchen cabinets shattered under his weight as he pushed back at the sight of the figure who entered the room.

The black combat armour, the cold face, the calculating copper eyes. He knew her, or at least his old self did. The ghost less shell, a husk, of Hidoe Kuze, eyes closed, looked up into the face of his killer and screeched, his perfect face splitting as his mouth gaped, the remains of his hands, torn, skinless and bloodied reaching up to claw at his assailant.

In the last fleeting moments of life. Kuze, through all his madness, as the ODIN virus retreated back into the net leaving his body limp. He saw her and the single moment of clear thought, he smiled. He'd found the girl from the hospital again.

Motoko pulled the trigger, the body of the man she once knew so briefly, jerked and then lay still. With trembling hands she reached into her belt and dropped a dirtied, white shape down into the mess by his face.

_I learnt_

* * *

The watchman looked up to the angel to the unspeaking, dark shape above his head and whispered into the night,

"Your Crying,"

There was a brief flurry of movement from atop angel and the shadow disappeared from view. He watchman wrinkled his nose at the smell of ozone as the woman engaged a camo shielding device. He sighed, disapointed, his noise been pulled back into the night as he passed his torch over the quiet dead and the night-time peace settled across the waiting stones.

* * *

Batou glanced off the railway sleeper. Yelling in pain and surprise as the hooded character planted a boot into his chest and spun off, twirling in mid air and landed, panther-like on the concrete floor among the metal and stone of the railway. Below the hood, the head moved, eyes flashing in shadow as they twisted on their haunches, ready to spring. As he reeled back, he realised the pain and the looseness he felt in his right hand, he'd broken his fingers. There was defiantly body armour under the shapeless cotton hoodie the figure was wearing. He swore pulling him self to his feet, knife ready, swinging toward the figure. It caught the knife between index finger and middle finger, stopping the blade dead in the air. One booted foot shattered Batou's knee as he struggled to pull himself from the vicelike grip of the figure.

"who are you?,"

Inside the circular room, the many tracks which converged on that single location, the question echoed along most of the tunnels which linked to that point. Behind the hood, the face was in shadow, the hands covered in large black gloves. There was no noise however, as the character wrenched the knife from his grip, lifted Batou and slammed him into the one of the columns which surrounded the wide hall, shattering the stone and with firm and unquestionable speed, smashed the remains of Batou's knife into his exposed shoulder.

He struggled to stand as the other grabbed the single, cylindrical case from the trackside.

"you bastard!!, coward!!, don't godamn move!!,"

The hood dropped, the shock of purple hair, the copper eye which glinted which such coldness even Batou shivered. The perfect alabaster skin.

"Major?!"

_The Major is dead, don't try and follow me._

* * *

Within the small cramped space of the graveyard security office, the watchman dropped his hat onto a peg and crossed the stone floor to his crowded desk. He paused, something was different. Among the clutter, the abandoned rakes, old photos of friends, old and new. The wooden shelves and the lit plasma powered stove which burned blue in the corner.

On his desk, in a pool of light from the desk lamp was a single, paper crane_._

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed reading, next chapter wil be up soon._


	13. Dark Harvest

I know you're out there. I can feel you now. I know that you're afraid... you're afraid of us. You're afraid of change. I don't know the future. I didn't come here to tell you how this is going to end. I came here to tell you how it's going to begin. I'm going to hang up this phone, and then I'm going to show these people what you don't want them to see. I'm going to show them a world without you. A world without rules and controls, without borders or boundaries. A world where anything is possible. Where we go from there is a choice I leave to you

The Matrix - Closing Lines

* * *

The dark streets of New York were slick with rain which poured from the asphalt coloured sky down onto the tarmac below. Through gurgling storm drains, the water, following some unseen path swirled in the dark air. Droplets, caught by surrounding buildings fell to shatter upon the black surface, their after shocks swilling across ground level.

Brent looked up into the falling rain, water running down his visor. Behind the bulky, maybe even gasmask like visage, he closed his eyes and sighed loudly.

Across the small alley they occupied, Ryeman raised a finger to his lips and signalled toward the large metal door. Across its rusted surface, large warning symbols bearing the legend DANGER, do not enter were tacked on, bright colours among the grey and orange rust which rose up from the already damp floor. Doors such as these were common place in New York. Continued bombing by Orga forces during the last war had done major damage to the infrastructure around the city. New York, in these desperate times, was a city trying as hard as it might to pull itself back up onto its feet.

Around the two men the gathered squad of Deathwatch and Shi'ja, Ryeman's pathologist waited, water dribbling from their helms for some unseen signal. Her veil damp with rain, Shi'ja had her hair hidden as usual beneath a large black and red bandana which went well with the rest of the black cloth of her garb. Her stark blue eyes were cold and calculating today, flicking from one face to another as she gauged some hidden issue.

"Command, we have Flat lining, All squads are go…"

The static hissed in the radio as Ryeman looked up expectantly. There was the briefest of moments of noise as the rest of the squad snapped the safety off. Brent moved forward, unslinging a large black 'ram' from his back and with a great deal of force, rammed the blunt end into the metal door.

It just buckled the first time, the metal tearing under the impact. Brent grunted in annoyance, bringing the black metal of the ram into view from behind his body and smashed it again, the hinges and the lock tearing away from the stone doorway. He allowed the ram to fall, steadying himself by the door as the rest of the squad passed, Ryeman first, his large 243 Sig Saur in view , a torch strapped to the underneath of the barrel panning across the stone floor and walls of the derelict buildings interior.

"Armed Police, drop your weapons NOW!!!"

The building listened obligingly but no one occupied the long empty spaces of the warehouse beyond, its dark floor and dusty offices echoing with the noise. Ryeman paused; it seemed a little two quiet.

There was a corner beside the now smashed open door to a large wooden staircase which rose up to the next warehouse level. Ryeman raised a hand, signalling for the squad to _Stop Moving…_

Above in the dark, something shifted. A slight grunting, snuffling noise echoed down the long space.

"Command…." Ryeman voiced his thoughts very, very quietly "…..how well did you scan the building."

"Full Icarus scan."

"Then why is there something still here."

"The whole area is a black mass; we can't differentiate between the building and the occupants."

"The whole place has no energy?"

"Nada…."

Ryeman nodded, gun upraised. From the cloying shadows of the dark space beyond the stairs, something scrapped across the floor, bare metal by the sounds. Ryeman didn't react, taking one creaking step at a time. The vast pit of black above his head was illuminated by the playing torch light over the dark surface. Something darted beyond the circle of light, a human face contorted in pain and fear was gone back into the shadow. A retching screech echoed across the room.

"Infected…." Ryeman breathed, "….that would explain a few patches of dark, but why the whole room….the whole building in fact."

"Probably a malfunction with the Icarus Lens….The question is, what are the machines doing this far south?"

"The amount of exports the Americans have been doing recently I wouldn't be surprised if some snuck in somewhere."

Shi'ja nodded, pulling a large metal case into view, hung from her shoulder by a large black strap. She gripped the small A-10 automatic sub-machine gun to her chest. Ryeman checked around, cresting the top of the stairs. Surrounded by the dark, the light at his back, Ryeman's tall, dark shape erupted into the dark. Something scrabbled on the ceiling, above his head, a single trickle of dust above his head.

"Is there a chance…" Ryeman said calmly and quietly into his comm. bead "….that you can take over the building mainframe and upload a virus and get those blinds open."

"We'll see what we can do Tesla…"

"Good."

Ryeman thumbed a small silver stud on the side of his gauntlet. With a whine and a buzz of static, the air becoming literally electrified around the gauntlet. In the sparkling, buzzing air, he raised the gauntlet to his face level.

And clenched his hands….

For Ryeman, who stood in the vast blast of electrified air, science was still a major detail in the whole affair. The entire clench and release movement caused several plates to rub together in the palm of his gauntlet. This caused several patches of Ryeman's electrified skin to be stimulated, allowing the nervous system to build an electrical charge, electrifying the very air around him.

"OPEN FIRE!!!!"

Ryeman caught a machine in an arc of energy, tearing through its out casing and frying its cyber brain. Behind him, lit by the muzzle flares, the Deathwatch forced the top of the stairs. Brent swore, rising himself up to blast apart a machine dropping from the ceiling. It smashed into the ground in a spurt of sparks and black ichors as its armour shattered under the forced of the blast. Brent yelled into a face another as in the dark more came. Screaming death seemed to be tearing from every shadow, machine guns roaring in the dark, bullets tearing through flesh and metal, blasting apart craniums into a violent flash of blood. Through the nightmarish flickering lights, their eyes rabid and staring, infected androids, clawing and screaming, mouths gaping for almost air, black ichors flowing down on the shirts and jackets most the infected wore, staining the light material.

"How many have we got?"

"A couple of hundred….." Mitchell twisted on his heel, as rounds winnowed around his head. He brought his rifle butt into the face of another, splitting aside the once delicate jaw line of the female model. Before him Ryeman, face clouded and dark, twisted on his haunches, twisting aside to catch another charging android, blasting aside its brain case.

He never missed, leaping forward into the crowd of machines, the muzzle flares of his pistol brightening the space in brief flashes of light. His arms were a blur, a furious speed of movement catching the machines one by one. With click the ammo case dropped from his stock. Around him, the wrecked ruins of the machines dropped to the floor around the crouched adjudicator. He stood, gun muzzles to the ceiling smoking, waiting as the Deathwatch spilled around him, the long coat blowing in the slight breeze as with a muffled thud, the blinds retreated at some speed into the wooden clad window sides, light tearing across the dark space. The dark shapes of androids were spilling into several surrounding dark passages, fleeing the light and the Nightwatch.

"Follow them, leave none alive…"

The Deathwatch sprinted by as Shi'ja moved forward to join Ryeman. He allowed the gun to fall, pressing the large handgun back into its holster. Thorough another rotting wall ahead, another small opening continued into another dark room. A slight green hue was part of the dark in the antechamber, reflecting off several glass surfaces within the shadow.

* * *

Motoko lent back in her chair, hands resting on the keyboard as the harness snapped down to encompass her head. The rotating image of the next room filled her head, the dark hole Icarus denoted becoming back of the several other dark areas chased by light shadows. One by one the dark holes were filling up. Ryeman's bright ghost flare was easy to see, floating among the building approaching the large dark area, Shi'ja beside him.

_I'll try and gain a Barrier __Maze; the machines have altered the building V.I system. I'll see what I can do…_

"Yeah, roger that…." Basher pulled another object on the screen in front of him. "….give me image, two twelve."

Motoko did obligingly, trying not to lose concentration on her own task. Flowing among the building electrics and computer systems had to be a little taxing.

* * *

The room hummed. Ryeman stopped dead in the doorway to the small 40 metre long hall, feeling his heart in his ears as the vast vision filled his vision. Pods, 50 or so, full of liquid, each glowing green hung from brackets along the wall sides. Within the glowing water, illuminated from several holographic consoles, human bodies, attached by several nodes plugged into the base of the neck, hung still in the water. Each pod was full, made of the same insectile black metal, some lying empty on the floor, evidence of the machines need for growth.

Ryeman paced down the aisles between the green glowing pods; face glowing with the dark, sickening light. Men, Woman and Children hung in the water, emaciated and pale, their arms hanging limply among the seaweed like hair which flowed around them attached horrifically by several metal wires plugged directly into their spines, some fresh as the bruising showed and blood clouding the water around them.

"What the Hell!?" Ryeman gave Shi'ja a warning look, drawing his handgun.

In one of the tanks, hair clouding her face, a girl, pale and drawn hung in the clear fluid, the dark mass of her hair like waving weed in the deepest sections of the ocean. Ryeman rested a single metal gauntlet on the glass, staring up into the sleeping face.

"What are they doing in here?"

Shi'ja didn't answer, crouching beside a large console in the central partition of the room. With quick, dexterous movements she plugged in several wires into the metal plugs on either side, connecting the single metal hard drive to the core.

A holographic display shimmered; the spectral form of Motoko Kusanagi, upright and cold faced, came into view, a rather vivid neon blue in colour. She raised a hand, summoning several pop ups into view. Across its holographic surface, like the image of Motoko herself, hundreds of number flowed and shimmered, disappearing from view becoming part of the black, blue tinged skin tight suit she wore.

_I have vast flows of Energy flowing into this room. Dampers are also in effect around the rooms in all the building. So far, from what I can tell, these people are ghostless._

"But that's impossible…." Shi'ja said, kneeling beside one of the abandoned pods, a data pad in hand "….we found that the body cannot exist without a ghost, it would be certain death"

_Maybe the machines have found a way to keep people in stasis and harness the ghosts._

"Why, how can the machines use us, why do they need us to be alive?"

"Kill the body and the ghost dies; take the ghost and the body dies. What if the machines took the ghosts but left a tenuous link to the physical self, keeping the people alive, the energy, the collection of void in this area is all systematic exposure of the human soul, ghost to the outside world."

_But who are these people?_

"Test subjects maybe…." Ryeman stepped up to a large collection of boards "….waifs and strays"

"This one isn't…." Shi'ja gestured toward the floating, black haired girl "….looks like she's part of a good up bringing"

_Well… _Motoko shimmered, the holographic face becoming perturbed …_Could it possibly be the fact that the machines tried to develop a stronger ghost. The Ghost grows and enriches through meeting people and experiencing new things. Maybe the machines tried to increase the yield of the ghost by taking people of different backgrounds to see who develops the best energy stream._

There was a crash behind her, Shi'ja whirling around. Ryeman stood in blinding blast of light, scattering several rotten boards' away. Motoko, even in her holographic state got the impression of white wings unfurling around Ryeman as he stood illuminated by the sunlight, among the cold, silent tanks.

"They want ghosts and what they can't from they take. ODIN must be stopped, at all costs"

"Can we save these people?"

"No, we can stop more going the same way…."


	14. BioCogs and Cocktail Sticks

_Next Chapter up. I have now reached the 1000 mark with visitors to this story and plan to finish it by the time i go to Uni. So hopefully this chapter will be to peoples liking. And please review, it seems the GITS section of Fanfiction isn't what it once was (_sees tumble weed roll slowly by_) and it would mean alot if people would give me some feedback. I'm fairly new at this and would like to know how to improve. Anyone can review, anon or registered._

_I tell you one thing though, all this writing does wonders for my grammer._

_But thank you very much to those who have read it and pushed up my stats. And reviewed for that matter. Reviews don't equal chapters however, i write without or with reviews._

_For the story however, Motoko enters the end game, Ryeman admits to a certain 'crush'. A painting brings a new revalation to the ODIN virus and the Nightwatch really begins to show it's true colours._

_enjoy reading_

**Tharagon**

* * *

_The idea of Synthetics is Ignorance. They are vastly flawed, liable to be tricked, their minds stolen. To remain Organic, human, is to remain an individual, not part of the vast hive mind which makes up synthetic society. We are flesh and blood and spirit. Our minds are our own. We've stared down the barrels of our destroyers firearms and said 'no, we will not go quietly into the Night. We watch that darkness, may our enemys quail in their metal shells or feel fear as we bring the full wrath of the human race down upon them. We are the darkest of night, the cold, uncorrupted remenants of the human race._

_We are Nightwatch._

(Rage against the Machine Protocol)_ Gommie - 21st century Sociology Student_

* * *

The usual chatter of security systems filled Motoko's head as she sat, reclining on her hotel bed. It felt good to be back in business. This was her job, her mission, her role. And throughout the happy thoughts, her mind was still cool and collected. Slick, as Ryeman put it.

The Kinson estate was still several miles away, the party wasn't to start till later but now was the time for a little recon. Of course, Motoko's talents as a hacker had not faded along with her position with Section 9 and she'd waltzed through the dual layer attack barriers which awaited her within the Kinson Sphere.

Her avatar, not the Chromo file she had before, was now a purple haired, haunted looking girl wearing a long white dress which rippled in some unknown breeze.

Each sphere when designed were allowed to accommodate two gates of entry. This would allow the vast amount of data flowing between spheres in the transit streams easy access. However as they were mostly designed by the Nightwatch, the spheres had several 'back doors'. Which Motoko had used to her advantage, turning her nose up at the dive helm and, instead, lay prone on her bed, Whitman keeping watch beside her, as she quested through the dark recesses of her mind. Her memory coils were humming with life as she bypassed a second barrier, the vast streams of data which flickered across her finger tips. She'd never felt so alive and grateful to be wrapped in the buzzing, busy cyber-net yet again.

The Kinson estate occupied a large park at the edge of the large city of Boston. It'd taken them a great deal of time to gain the necessary permits for entering the old American Empire. The old ghosts of the past regime still lingered, the hatred for organics had never faded. The old scars of the past still remained but Kinson always remained in the lap of luxury in his country estate. However much the American people suffered, starving as the organic Governments tried to get as much food aid as possible to the organic remains of the populace, Kinson was still in his ivory tower. Cy-Borgs don't require food as in the rest of the world, the especially hard stance the UN took toward them, trying to feed the remains of Organic population with radiation poisoned ground had meant that Cy-Borgs now occupied a lower tier of society. Their need for food was deemed as 'not important' compared to the greater need of the Organic population.

Motoko bit her lip. Brushing aside a stray curl of purple hair, her avatar pulled another document from the detritus that lay around her feet. The deep cold of Motoko's mind slowly worked,

_Kinson is holding his party on the ground floor of the house, Northern side, in the western wing of the house. It occupies 2 miles of parkland with armed guards of the North American Security company, just Mercenaries with a posh name, nothing more, nothing less. One basement level…._

She quickly pulled several architects diagrams into view.

_60 metres of concrete separates the basement from several lower levels built during the last war. Lead lined, looks as though our collector built himself a nuclear bunker. _

With an artistic twirl of her fingers, several safe diagrams were pulled into view.

_Dual lock, triple doorway system. Single blast door, vacuum seal around most of the door sides. Cyber-Locks and a Ghost key required pass code. Optic and Voice recognition software._

Motoko blinked clearing the error messages which blinked into life as she tried to activate the last safe lock.

_A bit smarter then we first thought. All data referring to the last safe has been cleared, deleted. _

_Damn_

With a flick of fingers, she caught the estates address book and flicked across the personal guest book. The file activated with a spark and several faces flickered quickly in front of her vision. She could recognise several of the faces which whisked by her head, some she could not and some seemed all too familiar.

_Him_

Even within the vast space of cyber-space, her voice seemed cold and hard. As the she let the bald headed leering figure of a certain chairman she cared to forget fall from her fingers and drift down, below her floating feet. Motoko sighed and swan dived into the blue depths of cyberspace leaving the calm thoughts of security personnel and data and made for the rapid thoughts of her own sphere.

* * *

Ryeman shifted uncomfortably in his suit and brushed the comm-bead. Whitman's throaty voice echoed across the comm,

"Give me 5 minutes, she's ghosting currently but this won't take long,"

"Understood," Ryeman raised an eyebrow and nodded to Basher who sat, arms wide across the back of one of the long sofas in the hotel foyer.

"women, honestly," Basher's cockney accent filtered through the thick air of the wide space, it's gilded carpets and wooden surfaces doing little to represent the dire strait's the American Empire was in.

"And yet you're unable to take your eyes off them, Basher," Ryeman fiddled with one of his cuff links, the tight, black tuxedo digging into the skin above the large black gloves he insisted on wearing when told the large metal gauntlets would not look 'good'. Beside them the hooded and robed figure of the Nightwatch Medic, Shi'ja, sat, arms folded and eyes closed, head bowed, lost in deep thought.

"And neither can you Ryeman, one in particular," Ryeman coloured slightly at that comment.

Shi'ja cracked open a single eye, the cold blue iris eyeing Ryeman as he responded. "Just art appreciation, my friend, just art appreciation,"

* * *

Motoko placed one foot on the foyer floor and allowed the silk to flow around her body. To wear revealing dresses were far beyond her, the red marks across her skin, the blemishes where her grafts joined and her single white eye always made her feel out of place among the perfect people who habituated these kind of gatherings.

She stood, poised beside Ryeman, her copper eyes running across the crowded room before her..

Tonight, she wore a figure hugging Kimono made of red satin. Inlaid across its surface, Chinese dragons twirled and danced among lotus flowers. A floral black sash hung around her waist, several patterns and Japanese Characters were circled by figures and cranes, soaring above in the fabric sky. She'd straightened her hair so it hung, perfectly vertical, in line with her face, one side in shadow, the other, her pale skin shone. Her single copper eye glittered with life, for once, the haunted look was gone from her face. She was happy, a rare sight, the usual cold, grim expression had for once vacated her face.

The room reminded Motoko of several museums she'd visited when she'd visited Europe through the passing years. The wood and plastic floor, the long bar, the gilded windows and the white plaster was intermixed with several plasma screens and floating holographs which swirled among the guests. There were two entrances to the room on Motoko's left and right. Behind the long trestle tables, doors through to the kitchens were visible. With a large amount of swearing and gushing steam, even Motoko's refined hearing could still here the engine of a waiting truck as it unloaded into the kitchen entrance. Ryeman would already know of course, but the feeling of self importance made her feel like telling him

_Two ways out, 3 maybe,_

"Isn't that nice, you taught yours to play charades,"

Ryeman glanced down at the small man that approached them. He was completely bald, a blank faced woman hanging to his arms wearing what appeared to be a bunny girl costume. That had been a disturbing trend all evening. The majority of the group were all male and all of them had one or two of these blank faced women with them.

"That's the way I like my women, no words, no argument," Ryeman muttered grimacing as Motoko's pincer like grip threatened to sever his arm from his body. The small man, the woman beside him stood with knees bent slightly to allow her to cling to his arms, nodded, leering at Motoko's tall form and turned back into the crowds.

_What are they?_

"What do you mean 'they'," Ryeman collared a passing waiter and handed Motoko a glass of drink,

_Them _Motoko pointed to several of the blank faced woman. There were a few standing, huddled in small groups, all clutching champagne glasses in tight, glove covered hands. Every once in a while, one would raise the glass to their lips and sip, even those who didn't have any liquid left. They didn't speak, just stood, generically sipping from the tall fluted glasses. They were spread around the room, the blank faced, expectant look most of them wore putting Motoko uncomfortably in mind of a love-bot.

"Bio-Cogs," Ryeman said, matter of fact, "biological pre-cognitive developmental Life Forms, Bio-Cog for short. When the bottom fell out of the cyber market most men, and women, though only occasionally, tried to look elsewhere to develop love dolls. So in the end they found the creation of Cogs. They're built, grown, from organic materials and sold on the markets for a high price,"

"all they do is count, screw and look pretty…" Whitman's voice rattled across Motoko's hearing, "…what is the point,"

"and yet here we are in a room with a whole load of them. Someone defiantly wants them,"

_I don't_

"but they think your one,"

_I'm not organic_

"Yep, but you don't look real,"

That comment stung. She had always known the under lying distrust toward the synthetic race and in this case, decided to let it drop. Her ghost, however, cooled a little.

"Just mingle for now, I'm going to check out a few of these fellas, work out who's the celebrity in all this," Motoko nodded and disappeared into mixture of men who stood amongst the Bio-Cogs which adorned several podiums.

"Disgusting, perverted Bastards," Whitman's voice sounded across the comm-link. "Over sized godamn libidos, stinking hairless apes the l…"

"Focus on your job, soldier, not your personal preferences," Ryeman responded, extremely quietly.

Motoko ran her hand across the surface of a buffet table. Ryeman's whispered conversation with Whitman were all very easy to hear as she half smiled at Whitman's response to Ryeman's comeback. She pulled a food laden cocktail stick from the silver holder, which stood beside a large tureen of some un-known beverage and bit down savouring the rather bland taste.

She gave a nearby blank eyed Bio-Cog in a bunny costume an extremely frosty glare. The meat puppet didn't seem to care at all. A closer inspection confirmed that the pupils of the mock human being were defiantly completely dilated. The large red lipstick which seemed to be rather thickly painted, was actually the actual skin colour of the lips.

It was horrific what lengths human will go to experience life's pleasures. The whole idea of staying in one room with one of these things seemed to be bad enough for Motoko, sharing a life or a bed for that matter seemed even worse. But then, what was the difference between the people here and the people who had love-dolls back in the old synthetic republic.

She quickly glanced back over her shoulder. Ryeman, his tall shape visible among the party goers, nodded to her and smiled, sweeping aside a grey hair old man with a black glove. She nodded to him and signalled toward the open door into the side corridor. He nodded again, dropping into conversation with another man.

The corridor, its cool air a relief compared to the stifling close air inside the larger room. Along the wooden clad sides, the arched ceiling and marble floor, several glass display cases where large pieces of art, ceramic pots and several old relics were shown on display. And, occasionally, a Bio-Cog occupying an alcove with another man, deep in conversation or something else, Motoko didn't want to find out what.

Motoko ignored the other occupants and made her way along the corridor and with a quick movement, activated the perception filter built into her handbag. The cameras, fizzing slightly as the filter engaged a small electrical field , parted as the small electrical circuits failed to pick up her presence.

Quickly, she covered the marble floor, stooping low as she avoided the small motion sensor spread across the stone floor. The terminal, a wood clad object inset into the wall, wedged beside a large glass display case was her goal. With ease and great skill, Motoko dug her finger nails into the side of the wooden door and levered it open, damaging the tiny mechanism slightly. She checked down the corridor, quickly reaching behind her neck, extending the reverse lobe wire from the plug-in within her spinal column and slotted the device in to the circular data pad within the small alcove. Immediately, several columns of text, dropped in front of her vision as her main server came on line and the Raven, circling high above the Boston skyline, began to receive the necessary data. Security protocols and several power grid references were pulled into view as Motoko, her own pupils dilating, allowed the data to roar through her head.

An attack barrier slammed up against her own virus protection causing her to jolt back against the wooden surface of the table the display case was on. Her avatar, in the recesses of her mind, cast it aside.

There was something else here. Motoko sent the tendrils of her mind rolling across her mindscape into the system toward a small black mass. A single questing, glowing line met the black dot and a single popup message roared into view.

**CONNECTION MADE**

There was a scream of a hundred voices, a smatter of blood on cold stone. Motoko wrenched herself away from the socket, breaking the connection, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood from her nose.

She knew the sound of ODIN, the virus was here, watching from the sidelines. In her mind she cursed the hell spawned 'thing' and pulled herself to her feet. Quickly she cleared the virus pop-ups and Nightwatch warning systems which flickered across her HUD.

A sudden sharp pain made her stagger as she struggled to control the rampant attack of the virus. She'd broke the connection before ODIN could get a hold, thankfully. She could remember all too well what happened to synthetics that became infected. She'd dealt with some herself. One bullet, to the head, normally did the job.

She pulled herself into an alcove, hands trying to clear the blood from her face. The screaming of voices, all the infected calling out as one, had already tested her nerve once, now it seemed to resonate through her. With great difficulty she dabbed at the black blood spots beneath her now, thankfully, bloodless nose. She felt like kicking herself, a stupid rookie mistake to be curious. She shrank back among the warm interior of the alcove, disengaged the perception filter and, with slightly shaking hands, brushed the hair from her eyes, exposing both the white and the copper eye.

And yet, curiosity reared it's ugly head yet again.

Across the hall, in large coloured print, a large picture caught her eye. It portrayed what appeared to be two opposing armies. One charged from the top right hand corner, among cloud and sunshine, down toward another black mass which was rearing up from the bottom left, among fire and smog. In the middle a lone figure could be seen, rising between the two opposing forces. Motoko pulled herself forward, at last the blood cleared from her face and approached the large picture. The two armies were now in sharp contrast, clearly visible. Motoko felt her soundless unmoving heart skip a beat.

As if dropping from heaven, the right hand army were hundreds of machines, the sunlight glinting off their metal wings as they dropped from toward the dark mass, which reared up as if they were the army of hell itself. Humans, Motoko realised as she leaned closer, dirtied and dark, black suits of armour covering their torsos were rising up from the darkness.

And there between them, neither dark or light, a woman stood, arms outstretched, black wings sprouting from her back, wearing silvery armour, scrolls and wax seals stuck to several places across the it. Her face was in shadow beneath a wave of purple hair. Motoko felt herself quail at the painting's surface as she stepped back, a cold feeling of surprise rippling across her frame.

"And how we doing?," Ryeman stepped up behind her, resting his hands on her hips and eyeing her bloodstained, pale face, a look of concern which Motoko did not want to see, twisted his face. She did not want people to worry about her and twisted her head away from him, shielding it. He glanced up at the picture "Wow, nice painting," he paused thoughtfully, "though I could of sworn they had this in the cistern chapel. The armies of heaven and hell fighting each other when the angels fell. Good versus Evil,"

_But there are machines, and humans!!_

Ryeman looked puzzled, non-plussed as he glanced back at the picture, "I only see angels and daemons,"

_And who is that?!_

The dark figure between them seemed to loom from the picture, the black wings and the shadowed face. There was no denying it was there, Motoko could feel the paint beneath her fingers as she brushed her hand against the paintings surface.

"That is the angel of Death, it both divides and unites us. Neither Daemon or Angel. Motoko what is your point!?,"

_There are machines, and us, can't you see them,_

"Sorry, No. Kusanagi, are you feeling all right?. You didn't come across anything in the terminal?"

_No, no I'm not seeing things!!_

"yeah, alright," he said sarcasticly, "That's a better picture anyway," he pointed to a large group of people on one of the opposite pictures, portraying a dark street within which an army prepared for war, "Nightwatch, Rembrandt. Makes me feel worthwhile any day,"

* * *

_Next Chapter "The Return of Casheye" up soon._


	15. Deus

Next chapter up!! I would like to thank all anon reviewers Groovy and Pixiemartin who, though i tried to reply to your reviews, i couldn't find you so here we are. For all those interested Deus means God, a recurring theme. And don't worry, it is not going to go biblical. Angel and Demon anime was always what put me off (how could they wear so little and yet survive!!) Which would probabley explain why the armour in this Fanfic is several inches (3 cm) thick.

Tharagon

_

* * *

__Now the gate has been unlatched, headstones pushed aside, corpses shift and offer room; a fate you must abide_

****

Inferi Sententia

* * *

"The Painting…." Ryeman muttered as Motoko knelt by the last console by the lift doors, giving the corridor some wary glances as several Bio-Cogs stalked past. Motoko, her active camo activated, pulled the last cord from her neck and zoned out. On the other end of the line Whitman lent back in her chair and pulled a data screen up.

"it's a hacked object. It changes to suit the witness's preference."

"So a Cy-Borg…"

"A machine would see a war against us, a holy war."

"Damn…." Ryeman glanced back, the green of his eyes flashing back into the crowded party room "….why do things become biblical"

"…..because humans hold the necessary will to create a god, then the machines will also try and copy that belief"

"But the central figure, who did she see."

"I guess she's not aware your talking about her."

"No."

"….then I guess you'll just have to ask her. And how is she…"

"Fine, fine, we've managed to avoid any familiar faces…." Ryeman paused, smiling forcibly to a passing Bio-Cog bearing drinks on a silver platter "….and staying out of Kinson's way, which helps"

Whitman murmured her agreement from the other end of the line, "Keep your head down. The only reason we don't just waltz in there and take it is because big guy up top doesn't want us to cause a international incident. After Dejima and the incident with the Micro machines we're not every ones favourites."

"Correction…" Ryeman said, giving Motoko a warning look as she lolled back on her haunches, eyes glazed as she left her body "….Basher, Church and Shi'ja would not be anyone's favourites because your British. I'm squeaky clean, I've been half an American citizen for 36 years."

Shi'ja responded, voice hard across the link, "You're a tea drinker like the rest of us. They strapped you to a chair and pumped you full of electricity. To connect yourself with them is wrong and despicable…" she paused as if gathering breath "….and don't forget that unfortunate incident with the 10,000 refugees and Operation Sunset"

"Jesus!!…" Whitman's surprised voice echoed across the comm-link "…..Calm down!!"

"Look, I just don't see why we should be going on a hunch which was given to us by Machines, blue bastards, they could be infected, we've already had to remove one."

"Look, you just don't like them because they follow you around asking why you won't show your face and wear big black robes."

"Well, they should know…"

"they do but they don't understand…"

"Because their view of a god is a number, a complex equation. They are unable to think outside the box because they are machines. Machines think logically, they think in straight lines, unable to understand but feeling a need to become human or at least experiment with life. "Shi'ja paused. Ryeman, listening quietly to the conversation heard the cogs whirring in her mind.

"Machines are false, the Tachikomas are just a difference engine in a box. If you put makeup on a pig, it still makes it a pig!!"

"Enough!!" Ryeman ground his teeth together "….this is getting a little close to Synthetics and Cyberisation. We have a Cy-Borg team member. We have a commitment. Shi'ja, you suggest genocide, to wipe machines from the surface of the Earth"

"They tried to wipe us out!! Remember the death camps in France, hundreds taken into the wastelands and shot, killed, wiped out. They tried to eradicate us!!"

_This is not the time. _Motoko was up, brushing up against Ryeman _You insult and they give no one chance to defend themselves._

"And your one of them, Machines never stray far from that dark path."

_Enough!! _Motoko's rapid gesture exposed the pure rage which boiled within her very form _Whatever you think of me, I am still human, I still feel and I can love and understand and comprehend the spirit._

"But you are cold, hard and dark, Cold one….."

Ryeman shut the link, his jaw set as he glanced across at Motoko. She brushed a stray hair from her eye, quelling the anger building within her chest. The coldness of her form, her cold touch and corrupted ghost was all too clear to her. She would wake in the morning, in the wreckage of her room, the dark world outside her window, waiting for her. She'd awake, plug herself into the registering port and get a single food voucher and even when her cat entwined itself around her ankles, she wouldn't feel it.

* * *

Basher eyed Shi'ja as she lent back in her chair, its black, shiny plastic surface, engulfing her form as behind the darkness of her veil, her eyes glistened with silent tears. Basher felt his gut twist. It was a strange thing to see such a guarded figure lose a little bit of her control. Basher felt himself go colder.

"What the hell!?," Whitman could be heard in Basher's ear "…what's her problem?"

* * *

The lift door opened onto a softly lit space, carpeted with some rich fabric. Motoko had already hacked the interior of the lift from several of the consoles. All cameras were down, the brightly lit screen of the lift console were flickering slightly as Motoko's virus flushed through the main network, the last fizzing seconds she'd spent in the security system had been a little eventful as she latched on a Parasite Node to one of the vast security arms of the cogs which flowed around the system level.

Motoko lent against the lift sides, clearing the pain from her sinuses as the nano-bots built into the new cyber-brain administered several doses of chemical to diffuse the feeling of nausea from the ODIN virus. Ryeman stepped in behind her, quickly running a hand up one corner, checking for bugs or strange bumps, evidence of some kind of hidden surveillance device.

There wasn't any it seemed as he lent back, face set in a thoughtful expression. The lift doors closed with a soft tone as Motoko turned to watch her superior. The cold green of his eyes were hidden by his closed eyelids as, for some reason, he clenched his gloved hands, face creasing in some unknown pain. Motoko felt the smallest softening in her ghost as the large man winced visibly.

She rested on cold hand on his arm comfortingly. He didn't respond as he stood awkwardly in the small space. And then he was fine, seeming to release from the tight bundle he'd tied himself into, as if releasing a long breath.

"Yes?" he said, as she released her grip on the his arm.

The lift stopped his descent suddenly on the ground floor, the party was on the second at that point. It was strange Motoko realised as she gave Ryeman a warning look. Only the Foyer and main entrance was on this level. A late comer perhaps.

The doors opened

_Him, Damn_

The whole Casheye case came rolling back, the bald headed, disgusting pervert was here! Probably wrapped around a Bio-Cog or something. That short little freak had still not managed to rein in his rather large libido. Motoko felt herself go a little colder at this point as the lift sides gave little room to be inconspicuous. Ryeman noticed her sudden stiff expression, looked across, a look of concern creasing the skin of his brow,

"Are you all right, Kusanagi?,"

Without the smallest thought toward her next action, as the shiny cranium of Takokura appeared between the opening lift doors, she twisted, went up on to tip toes and raised herself up into Ryeman's face. Their lips met, the warm of his skin, the very human being he was becoming part of her for that split second. The cold skin of her face and arms against him, wrapped around the back of his neck. She was gazing into his eyes, she realised the green pupils, so cold and dark, were so full of life. She was so close, wrapped in the scent of peppermint and ozone. His gloved hands were wrapped around the crook of her back, pulling her up against him.

She could feel the hard edge of the body armour underneath the shirt, pressing against her belly as she clung to him, the expensive scent she'd doused herself in before leaving that evening, enveloping them with each slight movement.

Takokura leered in at the entwined couple, arm around a blank eyed, voluptuous woman, a Bio-Cog. He nodded his approval to Ryeman as a Father would do to a son, who, wrapped up in the whole event and Motoko for that matter, had gone a rather red colour, obscured behind Motoko's hair,

"I'll wait for the next one, wouldn't like to disturb you two,"

The lift door closed on the man with his blank eyed companion. Motoko didn't release her grip, pulling away from his face however, an inch apart, she could feel his heart beating steadily beneath the armour plate beneath his white shirt. He paused, arms still resting on her hips…

"Are you going to warn me next time?"

She shrugged, applying a little more weight on the Adjudicators body armour…

"And are you going to let go?"

* * *

"This is how its going to be!!" A gravely voice echoed through the channel causing Whitman to pause, pulling her eye away form the scope. In the tree's branches, the sniper pulled the radio closer to her ear and listened as the voice continued…. "Jenon head from the vault with 1st squad, the we'll engage the guests with the second. Kinson is needed to open the vault so locate him as you see fit…"

There was a murmur of agreement from whoever listened.

"Are you getting this big guy." Whitman muttered to her com-bead, jolting Basher from his doze in the quiet interior of the Raven…

"Wha…oh, right. Damn!! Where the hell did these guys come from!?. Its an exterior source, a van hacked into the main mainframe probably…." there was a clatter of a keyboard, ".…physically hacking into the wiring of the place….." Whitman heard Basher sigh and slump back in his chair "….god, these guys aren't subtle, they're pulling their data from a fibre optic cable on the exterior wall of the estate. It's a sewer system."

"What the hell are they doing!?"

"that's anyone's guess, I'm not going to ask personally."

"They, them, whoever they are, are after something in the vault."

Basher snorted… "Seeing as they're so unsubtle, and the equipment these guys are using are pretty second rate. Illuminam Rods, Blimey!!. it'll be gold, money, something worth selling."

"Or a weapon."

* * *

_Well, for all those who like Batou/Motoko pairings i apologise but i am fed up with pairings so here's something new. I'm not very good at romantic scenes but hopefully this got the mood across._

_Inferi Sententia means Thinking Dead (Gravemind in Latin)_


	16. The Return of Casheye

Next Chapter up. The heist takes an intersting turn for the worse. Ryeman reveals his true self, and ODIN lays the down the final pieces of the puzzle.

Tharagon

_

* * *

__The phrase deus ex machina is a Latin theatrical term meaning "god from a machine", although many sources translate machina as the crane used to lower actors to the stage. When the Romans conquered Greece, many of the Roman playwrights maintained the traditions of Greek theater, including the idea of using deus ex machina as a legitimate plot device. Deus ex machina is the introduction of a contrived character, often a god or goddess, into a play in order to miraculously rescue the hero or resolve a complicated plotline. In many Greek and Roman plays, a god or goddess who had been watching the proceedings from a distance is suddenly lowered into the scene by means of a crane-driven cloud or chariot. Even if the introduction of the deus ex machina makes little sense dramatically, the playwright could always be assured of an ending._

* * *

_All Done._

Motoko pulled away from the plug, the single copper eye watering slightly as the dispensers set around the eye quickly cooled the drying fluid caused by the information from the plug.

The lights blew out simultaneously, the lift jolting to a halt. Ryeman started forward as the room went dark, the brightly lit space darkening.

"What the hell did you do!?"

Motoko raised her hands imploringly…

Wasn't me, not this time.

"Basher?"

"Its an exterior system, Boss-man, you've got company."

"Damn!!"

Ryeman paced across the confined space and knelt down by the large console, the green of his eyes burning in the dim light, his hand resting on the plasma screen's surface.

"Whole place is dead, we're stuck between the ground floor and the vault levels"

_We're too high to drop._

"look, below this level, the whole shaft is guarded by a laser defence system. This lasts for 3 floors. You knock out the power, the lift stops and the lasers go offline…" he pulled a black bag from his back "….so if we can drop to the necessary level while the power is out, we're fine."

_But the power stopped us short. It's a 70 to 90 drop._

"And you've jumped higher, you do free running as a hobby."

Motoko winced visibly at the last comment

_And how do you know that._

"Intuition, I'll tell you one day."

* * *

The Bio-Cog hit the floor, fake mouth gaping as the bullet impacted on it's cranium. Through the sheer force of the blast, the head popped like a melon, scattering fluid and blood across the floor. In the dim chaos of the room, the guest all struggled for cover as across the room, 15 other men pulled themselves into view, clutching large automatic rifles in armoured mitts. For a time, Benon could feel his blood rising as he caught another Bio-Cog unaware, pitching it over a overturned table and emptying his cartridge into the back of its head.

With a hissing screech, each screen blew out as the tactical EMP bomb blew scattering a blue energy pulse across the estate. Within its fizzing radius, protected in the lead lined assault vehicle parked outside the estate, the synthetics felt the pure rage, their blood rising as they pushed further into the room.

Benon knew they needed the book. Why?… he didn't know, it was just there to be taken. No reason was given. But Benon could feel it, in the back of his Mark 3 Savant Cyber brain. A need, the uncontrollable feeling of greed for that single object. Nothing else mattered. But the bile rising in his throat at the sight of the rich fat cats and their flesh puppets made him doubt. All he wanted to do was kill, to lay waste.

"Kinson!! You fat bastard, get out here now."

Another yelled in the chaos, herding the crowd into separate groups, Cogs on one side and humans on the other. In the wreckage, Takokura his, bald head dust covered and dirtied, tried to pull himself free from the arms of his Bio-Cog as she struggled to remain with him.

Kinson was pulled forward, the neatly parted hair now messed up and lank. He was covered in the blood of his Bio-Cog as he struggled in the merciless hands of his captors.

"What the hell do you want!!" he said as he was dumped unceremoniously in front of Benon. The cloth clad troopers, dark in the matt black armour stitched onto the fabric looked at each other, laughing as Benon bent down to his eyelevel

"You."

* * *

Motoko leapt from the service hatch, her skirt rippling round her knees and latched onto a nearby girder. The entire shaft was duel layer, there were two lifts on a counter point system. One went up, one went down, simple it seemed and certainly offered Motoko some foot holds, as she swung her leg up, twisting herself into a hand stand.

"Alright, no showing off"

Ryeman glanced out of the maintenance hatch and glared down the long drop. There was a distinct crack and several glow sticks dropped from the large black gloves. Motoko watched them fall, upside down. the servos in her arms were purring, literally, as she pushed up onto one arm, winked at Ryeman with a broad grin and dropped. The wind rippled around her face as she dropped, the cold kiss of the breeze on her bare arms, the skirt, now with two long splits down the sides to allow easy movement, rippled as she dropped.

Ryeman slumped back into the lift corner, and rested his chin on the palm of his hand and sighed thoughtfully.

"Is this anything to do with us?,"

"No Adjudicator. Their some kind of synthetics for justice bunch, damn we've been after these guys for a long time." Basher's voice echoed through the comm-bead lodged in Ryeman's ear.

"I want names, personal address's, Dental records, I don't care, I want details Basher."

Basher pressed a hand to the Micro phone, glancing across the George, "He's to the numbers kind of guy. George, are you on it?,"

"I….I…I have just finished Acolyte. The names SLUP, Synthetic liberation unity party. T,t…hey been missing for several years, dropped right off the radar. They were v…very popular in the syn…thetic states during the Hong K…k…kong incident. Then after Cell….er..ffff..ield, there was a demand for the destru….ction of mac…hines to halt the increa…sssss….e of ODIN infected and SLUP wass….n't as p..p…p..opular, people wanted a solution and they saw thissss as the only way. They dis…sss..ssappeared into obscur..ur…ity,"

"well it seems our rarity group upstairs seemed to have cottoned on. This houses the largest Bio-cog selection the world. Of course, anti-organic protesters would be here, it just makes sense," Ryeman's voice echoed back across the mike as Basher lifted his hand from the speakers.

"What do you want us to do Ryeman?"

"Give us ten minutes before you send the Deathwatch in. Any demands?,"

"They want the completion of the A.I and V.I Re-facilitation and Rights Act,…"

"That won't happen,"

"….and the halting of Bio-Cog production for all the companies the chairmen at our little gathering,"

"And your……,"

"B…b…blocking it, s…sir, you don't have to ask. The whole estate is running st…..stand-alone, no r…radio traffic in or out,"

"you've got men heading down to the vault however, 11 by the looks," Basher's voice came back across the mike.

"You hear that Motoko, We've got company."

* * *

Motoko grinned ruthlessly and pulled her legs up to her chest, twisting her body in mid air, passing through a narrow square of girders in a ball. She caught another girder, the hair wrapping around her face for a minute and spun herself up, flipping out the net of girders.

She landed some metres below, legs outstretched, fingers of one hand splayed on the concrete floor among the glow sticks. Directly in front of her, the larger lift doors toward the main Vault entrance stood, nearly an inch thick, the doors were also lead lined, stopping any exterior radiation from reaching anything within. It also blocked all satellite imaging.

From this point on Motoko might as well of been running blind. There was hell of a lot of interference from the fibre optic cabling causing Motoko's HUD to fizz slightly round the edges. She swore, mentally, kneading her temples as the throbbing ache of the blockers took their effect.

* * *

Kinson slammed hard into the wood lined doors of the corridor. His hair askew, he was bleeding heavily from a head wound were Benon had clipped him with the butt of his rifle.

"We need your retinal and ghost key to get into that vault. You will comply or we start killing hostages."

Kinson spat out blood filled spittle and looked up with hate filled eyes to his captors.

"You can't, you blew the power. The vault will have sealed itself. What you going to do now, Bastard!!"

Benon clamped his gun to the side of Kinson's head, swearing causing several of his Bio-Cogs to cry out in generic female voices.

"You will comply….." he snarled, finger resting on the hair thin trigger. "….or I will make you. There are more ways to torture a man then flesh and blood."

Ryeman with great ease, cut through the steel cord which suspended the lift. The long, thin titanium combat knife made short work of the band of metal. And with a screech of tortured metal as he jammed a iron bar into the gap between wall and lift sides to hold the lift away from the wall of the shaft, he allowed the lift to drop.

He was torn from the roof as he held onto the cable, legs swinging in the air, the large metal gloves bringing up sparks as he slid down. The lift stopped dead, several metres below, stopping its screeching descent. The lack of someone pushing it away from the wall allowed the brakes to engage, kicking up fire and the smell of burning plastic as the brakes to effect.

Ryeman caught one of the passing girders, feeling his arm nearly dislocating in the sudden halt. He was beside the lift now in the side partition, its large metal girders digging into his back as with some struggle, he managed to wedge his foot in the gap, alleviating some of the pressure.

"C'mon Boss-Man. The guys up stairs are bringing the power grid back on line. I wouldn't really want to be there when that happens…"

"Oh really!!" Even in the present situation, Ryeman managed to lace the last statement with a degree of sarcasm.

He leapt, jacket billowing and landed in a cloud of dust. With a clunk and thud, a metre above his head, the trace of laser beams flickered back to life. Motoko patted him on the back, gave him the thumbs up. Ryeman gave her an especially dark look.

"I don't like heights"

* * *

"Power is back online…." Basher slumped back on his seat, "but the lifts are not working, the guys are taking the stairs."

"But there are several more security locks then in the lift shaft…" Whitman stretched, yawning widely in her tree "….C'mon let me shoot something. I've got bugs in my skivvies"

"No, 10 minutes"

"Aww"

On the monitor, Whitman pouted visibly. Basher grinned broadly, behind his head, across a short corridor, George, her hair still tied neatly, hanging across one shoulder, sat facing away, hands running across the keyboard. To Basher's right, through a small bulkhead door, the troop compartment was half full of Deathwatch, their death's-head visors glinting the half light and the crimson glow of the aft lights.

"Look, be patient, it won't be long."

"I've got a perfect shot, these guys haven't got any image curtains set up or anything."

George lent back in her seat, half turning her head, looking across at Whitman's suspended face.

"For terr….or….issss..ts, these guys are pretty ha..ha..ha…phazard. They're doing nnnnn….nothing to the b.b.b.b.book. They're nnnn….nnnot following any rrrrr..relevant patterns we co…co..connected to this group before."

"Too true.."

"I don't thhhh…ink these m..m..mm..en are th..hhhh…inking for themselves"

Basher folded his arms and closed his eyes. "Go on"

"Well l..l…ll.ook. These guys wwww….we…ere for anti-Organic. They s…ss….s…upported the w…w…w….ar, but they weren't a vvvvvv….iolent party. They were p…p…p…political, but here w…wwe've got them de…d…dd…eclaring a hostage situation"

"And, maybe desperate times call for desperate measures"

"Yeah, mmmmm..aybe. But s..s…s..ss..omething just isn't right. I've seen this kind of re…re…reckless c….c…arrrr…nage b…b…before…"

"ODIN" Basher breathed. In the sudden silence the Raven lurched to one side as the Pilot, changed the flight path rapidly.

"Sorry…" the pilot's voice echoed across the intercom "…just avoiding a light air craft."

"They should be avoiding us.." Basher muttered as he crossed his arms again "… still, you have a point. That painting and the ODIN node in that sub-server. Something fishy is going on here. But still I wouldn't jump to conclusions."

* * *

"Big Guy"

Ryeman looked up from the unconscious security guards strewn across the vault entrance's floor and brushed the bead in his ear.

"yup"

"We've have a hypothesis"

"Lets hear it…"

"Lets just say the guys upstairs…"

"S.L.U.P"

"….are actually drones from a hive mind…"

"ODIN, I guess"

"It would make sense, if the hive feels threatened it would send out others to secure the threat"

"But they act with such clarity. Most are slavering wrecks"

"Anyway, they're here, it's here I should really say. Heads up big guy"

"Right…." Motoko looked up from the single, plas-steel disk she was twirling between her fingers. A neural shock device effected anything not a machine in a small radius with sudden and fast effecting shock to the nervous system. It was basically like passing a large ampage of electricity through a machine.

_Nice, if only we had one of these_

"Doesn't work on machines."

Ryeman passed her a small black satchel, and signalled to the segmented blast doors at the far end of the room.

"You're through there. I'll wait here."

_Please be safe._

"Don't worry…." he grinned, signalling to the straight rod built into the underside of his sleeve and to the black gloves which adorned his hands "…I lived through 2 world wars, just like you. I can handle my self."

She nodded and made her way down the white clad corridor, running low to the ground. Behind her Ryeman pulled a single stool from the underneath the guard's table and sat down, arms folded, waiting.

It was strange, Motoko realised as she skidded down beside the large blast doors which emerged from the wall in a perfect semi circle. She felt soft, not enough to shy away from her job, but she felt her heart beating, which was strange. She could feel it in her ears as with dexterous fingers, she implanted her lobe cable into the port on the side of the door. Immediately, the data roared past her retina as she struggled to gain clarity from the rush of data.

She put all other thoughts aside, but felt a sense of loss as the moment in the lift after Takokura flickered past into the recesses of her memory, another deleted thought. There was click and the single console flickered to life, the retinal data rippling across the vault access panel. Motoko smiled out of sense of pure joy as with slow, delicate movements, pulled the Counter Mass Key from inside her thigh. The thin cylinder, glinted in her hand for a second as Motoko raised it up, exposing the single export plug on the head of the key and plugged it into the single port on the bulkhead door.

The whole door was built in segments. One part was designed to sink into the floor. Others were designed to raise into the ceiling allowing easy access. The castellated door, it's large grey surface a little foreboding clunked once as the key turned into itself, turning over to reveal the carved silver surface. The door rose , exposing a narrow passage way lined by glass walls down to a large dual layer vault at the far end. Motoko paused and looked back. Ryeman was still seated, drumming his hands on his knees, facing the vault entrance.

The glass of the corridor seemed to fill Motoko with a sense of dread. The entire panel was exactly the same on both sides, segmented into a criss-cross pattern. Through this, several silver devices were visible through the glass all resting on the segments, silver heads of metal connected by black wires. The heads were carved into fine points, attached to some device which ran along the back panel. The whole thing was illuminated by a blue glow, the floor itself was the same except for a narrow band of black metal which ran along the middle section.

Motoko slipped off her high heels near the door and tucked the long strand of purple hair which hung over her white eye behind her ear and chewed her lip.

This was all too easy.

"it's a laser counter point system. The whole place will allow you in if you manage to force the door open. Once trapped it would activate a series of heat rays to run along the walls, hence the segments cutting you to pieces. It would only open again if you managed to open the vault from the outside or died."

Motoko quickly withdrew her foot as Whitman spoke.

"Don't worry girly, it only detects heart rate or someone activates it outside. You are invisible to it. You don't have one"

'_You know…' _she thought as she rested one foot on the black pad which ran up the corridor, '…._been synthetic is really not that bad'_

However she didn't hang around, leaving the breezy entrance of the vault and ran onwards, the biting cold, cutting through the thin silk dress as the vacuum seal broke allowing her access. She stepped into another long space, covered in ice crystals, water running in rivulets down the walls as the air warmed with her presence, her bare feet crackling on the floor as the layer of ice broke.

Before her the large vault doors rose up from the glittering metal surface. Their reflective shells exposed the cold, pale face of Motoko as she approached, the glittering white eye quickly moving across the surface, looking for any weakness.

_Whitman_, she brushed the com-bead nestled in her ear. _Whitman._

She was greeted with a hiss of static as the fibre optic cables in the wall blocked all communication.

_Damn._

She hurried across the small space, not dissimilar to the first room she past through, and knelt by the large, ice encrusted console. She brushed away several crystals of ice off its LED surface, chewing her lip all the while as she plugged in her lobe cable. There was a fizz.

_Main File SET_

_DECOY BLOCKERS ACTIVATED_

_Full attack barrier variants on line_

_Damn!!_

She paused in the relentless stream of data.

_Setting Decoy viruses._

_System cutting loose unnecessary files._

Within the security system, the haunted looking girl which was Motoko's avatar grinned with a look of pure childish glee.

_Antibodies administered, Full system look down in progress_

_Parasite Node Latched_

All across the board, across the spinning cogs of the security system, all the parasite nodes began to overload the main servers. Motoko had set the little data land mines to halt all security systems in the area, the computers were been, to plainly put it, Spammed.

There was a hum of electricity as the door began to open. From this angle, as she retracted the lobe cable, it was easy to see how thick the door was. The large circular door, with a large retinal scan and code system in the centre, was large, metallic and needed servo motors to guide the vast thing out of its resting place, was about as thick as the length of her arm.

_Whoa _

* * *

"You're in my way…" Benon snarled, the dark hair flopping in front of his eyes, contrasting visibly with the pale skin. "….leave or die"

"I'm not in your way, there is clearly room either side of me to pass by." Ryeman rested the large gloves on his knees. "The Question is , what are you doing here?"

"You don't ask meat bag, I'm the hostage taker…"

Ryeman nodded, raising one hand from his knee up and dropping it back down.

"So be it…"

"And if you don't move, I'll kill him…"

"…and, go for it, no skin off my nose"

Benon lowered his gun, for the 9 others in the room, this was all terribly confusing….

"wha…"

"Don't care, not interested. Kill him, I don't really care what happens to him."

"Who the hell are you…"

There carefree attitude left Ryeman's face as in the cold air of the vault, he spoke, a particularly evil grin, creasing his face.

"Nightwatch."

He caught the nearest man in a head lock, there was a distinct crack as Ryeman brought his hands down, breaking his neck. He swung the body round soaking up the fire from the others who emptied their machine guns into the dead body of the their comrade.

Their ammo clicked empty.

Ryeman smashed his fist into one face, toppling another with a sweep of his leg and leapt onto the back of another, smashing his back bone, swinging round their body and skidding along the floor. He skidded to his feet. 4 dead, good, 5 left.

The 5th managed to get the ammo cartridge into his weapon before Ryeman was up against him. The terrorist gasped, a thin trail of blood emerging from his mouth as his feet left the ground, looking surprised into Ryeman's hard face.

Ryeman pulled the long stiletto blade from the terrorist's chest with a dramatic flourish, emerging from the fold of his sleeve. A thin bladed throwing knife whipped across the room catching another in the throat. He fell with a gurgle, the blood flowing from his mouth. With a yell the remaining two opened fire. With, quick, successive movements, Ryeman caught one facing him away from his body and emptied the remaining ammo rounds into the body of his comrade. He cried out in pain, as the bullets impacted before Ryeman, breaking the neck of the last twisted out of the way of another hail of bullets.

"TAKE THIS YOU BASTARD!!"

Ryeman brought his arm up across his chest, bullet ringing off the large black gloves. The gun clicked empty. The man looked at the gun confused, out of bulle….

He gurgled, feet hanging a few feet off the ground, staring down at the thin blade that entered his chest and emerged several inches behind his back. No, this can't be. He coughed as the blood rolled from the corner of his mouth.

Ryeman dropped the corpse, the blood covered spike retracting into the fold of his sleeve.

"Your Turn…"

The bullet caught him in the chest, pitching him violently back over the security desk. All Ryeman felt at that point was pain, his ribs breaking as the bullet impacted against him. Benon snarled, pulling Kinson forward, who was trying his best to avoid the dead bodies on the floor.

"Open the vault, stop the security system!!," Benon was seriously angry, the spittle gathering at the side of his mouth, planting a gun to the head of the old man "….or the next opening will be in your head"

"Ryeman….," in the wreckage of the plastic desk Ryeman's body lay still "…oi, big guy, the Deathwatch are on the field."

The blow caused Benon to fall forward. Even with all the prosthetic upgrades, the surprise and the pain which ripped through his shoulder blades was very apparent.

He turned, half expecting Kinson who knelt beside him and saw the man, his brown tousled hair covered in dust , the green of his eyes blazing. Benon's arm broke as Ryeman wrenched the raising gun from his hand twisting him around and wrapping one metal gloved hand around his throat.

"Every where I go…." Ryeman snarled, slamming Benon up against a wall and pressing his gun barrel against his chin "…..you dog my footsteps, curse the earth I walk on. And I ask what the hell are you doing here!!".

"We were sent…"

"by who, who sent you"

"The God…"

"None of that bull crap…"

"...it spoke to us across the depths of cyber space, the god Deus will lead the machines to a new victory."

"Why the book!! What is it so important?"

"The book is a key…" the man spoke with a voice which wasn't his own "…to a new world."

"Not on my watch"

"But the machines are moving south, we will wipe you from this planet, the pathetic stain you are…the machines will take you and consume you in new forms, and the world will tremble at our passage…"

The gun fired once, emptying the contents of Benon's brain across the wall. There was a lot of black fluid intermixed with the cyber-brain coolant which flowed around the edge of the cyber-brain. Ryeman gave the dead body a look of disgust as he turned away, brow knitted and thoughtful. He spoke aloud to the wreckage of the body at his feet….

"Wipe me off the face of the Earth why don't you. I'll tell you what, I'll be a might great stain for you to wipe clean, with sticky bits."

He spun on his heel, the pistol raising up as something crunched on the broken glass.

"And you, it doesn't surprise me you're here at all"

* * *

_Brownie points for those who can guess the mystery person. Please Review. 'Apocolypse Now' up soon, next chapter, Emergence will also be up sharpish._


	17. Emergence

_Next Chapter up. this is the last in the 'Return of Casheye' Sequence. This is also where things begin to go terribly, horribly wrong._

_

* * *

__Robot rights is the human rights corresponding to robots. The corresponding definition is therefore "the basic rights and freedoms to which all robots are entitled, often held to include the right to life and liberty, freedom of thought and expression, and equality before the law."_

_Rise of the Machine Protocol_

* * *

From the darkened corridor, Motoko's brooding presence was easily seen, moving through shadow, arms folded across her chest. As Ryeman turned, not lowering his gun, her face became clear to the dim lights as the emergency generators.

Kinson whimpered. Motoko wasn't Motoko. In fact Motoko wasn't even present. From the shadow of her hair, the water soaked silk gown hanging loosely around her shoulders, it's once bright colours bedraggled and lank, her white eye blazed vilely. Its ragged pupil, Ryeman could easily see it moving from him to the prone body of the older man beside him.

"You."

Motoko smiled, putting Ryeman in mind of a contented cat, the cold of the white eye sending shivers down his spine. She was clutching a large, black plastic bound book in her hands, flat against her chest.

_So _the comm link hissed the cold voice of Mira, which Ryeman had only heard once before…_it seems that you lead me to the book with such minimal prompting._

_"What the hell did you do with her?!"_

_She's sleeping, locked away inside. Oh the thoughts she has about you…._ the voice cackled loudly…_The dark thoughts; she is not one of an innocent mind._

_Ryeman felt the anger roll around, the cruel, coldness he normally got before a kill, ripping apart his own very sense of morality. Before him stood a mockery, a soulless puppet of the woman he thought he loved, slack jawed and fake. A simpering mockery of human life. Not the person, the woman he once knew. He clenched the trigger, unable to pull._

"What is so important about the book?"

_It's a key, a link. Deus will be so happy to final gain the last piece of the puzzle._

_Ryeman didn't move from his position…_

"What is Deus…?"

_A God_

_"A machine with delusions of grandeur. How are you here?"_

_It was the console, you told me so brashly to hack into, ODIN was waiting for me. And Motoko feeling such great curiosity reached out and touched the void….of course she brought something back. And that manifested me. Me Me Me._

_"You"_

_Mira_

_"It, not even a ghost, just a random segment of code. A bitter mote of a human soul."_

_Asimov._

_ Ryeman allowed himself one slight snort of laughter…_

_"So a part of her remains. All I ask is that to relinquish your hold."_

_She needs me, I'm the machine, she is the ghost of the woman. We mustn't remain with our so-called petty humanity. Her blood is cold, her heart doesn't beat, she feels no emotions._

_"I wouldn't know, you....sorry...her don't really interact."_

_Ah the bitter hope of the human soul. Love, Emotions, an illogical insanity. Human Weakness._

_ "And yet, it is what we look for"_

_ It is strange to me that you would lust…_

_"…I do not lust, machines lust for power, for life, something to make them whole. I lost everything and I have what I want…."_

_ ….a machine. You hate synthetics, their flesh, their cold skin, their pursuit of more perverted pleasures because they believe it makes them human even though they look at their metal bones and plastic flesh and realize they are no more human…_

_ "…then discarded dolls on a nursery floor, yes I said that…"_

_Hmmm, exactly. But the feelings for her.. Hmm, is it…_

Motoko's body cocked its head to one side, eying the taller man….

_….is it love maybe. Yes that's right, love. You love her. Forbidden, condemned by most. An Organic with a machine is unheard of….._

"Nope, you got it wrong there toots…" Ryeman grinned, seeing the annoyance flash in Mira's eyes....

_I doubt, to the darkest depths that this relationship could not just be the belief of human animalism _

_ Ryeman laughed at the last statement, causing Mira to look confused, twisting Motoko's perfect features into a mockery of human emotion._

"The question of Friendship is impossible for a machine because you are beings of logic. You are flawed"

Mira hissed at that statement….

_Quiet Human!! Hold your tongue!!._

_ "No, machines are finding us unable to fathom. Mira, you are not Motoko, she doesn't need you. You will never understand. To live is a chore, a logical number, just as much as you can't enjoy a sunset without picking apart each minor detail which makes it so"_

_Her ghost is mine_

_ "No…" Ryeman paused, the gun still raised "…she is her own. And tell her…"_

_What!!! _The voice spat, a thin trail of black fluid trickling from Motoko's nostrils.

"…tell her I'm sorry, and that she will understand."

The bullet caught the shell in the chest, the book tumbling from its grip under the force of the impact, sending it into the long corridor separating the vault from the main entrance.

"I am a monument to all your sins…" Ryeman caught the vault door and started to lever it shut as Mira struggled to rise….

_You will destroy her and me to gain what, a clear conscious…_ even across the comm-links the voice was high pitched in panic.

_ "No, she won't die…" Ryeman said as the door slammed shut "….I have one thing I haven't had for a long time…."_

_What!!!. Tell me, your petty humanity, an ignorant sense of morality. The will to do what is right._

_"_No. Hope" Ryeman said simply.

Mira screeched as the laser array along the thin corridor activated. From the far end of the corridor, a single pulse of energy emerged, a sharp beam ripping across the air of the corridor between to points on opposite walls. It began to move at a fast pace toward the still form of Mira who turned.

On the console, her face was brought into sharp contrast.

_You destroy her, you destroy me, to gain a better sense of….what, what can it be that you would sacrifice everything to gain nothing or what is it, a sense of justice. OPEN THE DOOR!!!_

_ "This isn't justice…." Ryeman slammed his fist beside the console as Mira leapt sinuously evading the beam and landed, panther like on the black floor "… there is no Knight in Shining White Armor coming to save you. There is us, and you. I take lives by any means necessary"_

A second beam appeared, higher this time and shot down the corridor.

"…and I want her back, the person I know and too do that i've got to get a little Evil!."

Mira contorted Motoko's body horribly, bending nearly over backwards allowing the beam to pass unscathed.

_Why, to be the object of your desire. Or is it love. Petty, insignificant it may be. To be the family who rejected you and sent you to execution._

_ "My past is all squared away. Nothing from a puppet master like you is going to remind me of it."_

_ And yet Motoko clings so desperately to the past. She can't seem to let go._

"Well, what ever floats her boat i guess, there are 6 of us and I'm not hunting for another team member"

_ 3 beams ran horizontal from the far end of the room. Mira leapt up, gripping the ceiling with steely fingers and hung out of harms way._

_ And you. James Andrew Ryeman, the enigma. What don't you want catching up with you. You just appeared…_

_ "Because I deemed it possible."_

_ Your soul is as black as the void_

_ "Maybe, but I'm still here and I have done what must be done to be so."_

5 rows of beams ran along the corridor and the last minutes before they met Mira, she turned to Ryeman.

Y_ou are hard and cruel...._

"And very practical"

The beam caught Mira, cutting cleanly thorough her right arm as she fell forward. The power cut out at that moment. The laser cutting off as the vault door opened. Motoko fell into Ryeman's arms and clung to him. There was blood flowing from the ragged socket where her arm once was. She felt sick. The nauseating pain in hr arm, the dull aching throb was too much as the pain receptors failed to work.

"Your fine, your fine. You're safe. Keep calm"

Motoko clenched her one remaining arm around his form and sunk her face into his shoulder, long drawn out sobs echoing across the empty vault. And clutched in that hand, Deus Ex Machina sat, black, boring and dark. Its surface was bare, its crisp white pages wrapped in a plastic coating. And as the Deathwatch zip wired down the vault lift, checking the prone body of Kinson in the debris, and Basher prying Motoko away, she stared at the black book and Ryeman who stowed it away with a degree of reverence, the cold green of his eyes reflecting her pale face as Mira stole away into the recesses of her memory.

MIRA WAITS, ODIN WATCHES.


	18. Apocolypse Now

Next Chapter up. This one includes a Cameo from Evil Jill's Fanfiction, Ghost in the Shell First GIG, called Matti, as Section 9 appears once more. This time a recon goes horribly wrong and the Machine Race begins its final assult.

All Thanks to EvilJill for allowing me use one of her characters.

Enjoy

Tharagon

_

* * *

__Do you hear that Mr Anderson, that is the sound of inevitability..._

_Agent Smith - The Matrix_

* * *

The vans moved along the dusty stretch of road in single file. Their grey, blank sides reflected none of the bright light from the sun as it reached its peak. There were 3 in all, all the same matt grey finish. From inside the bulbous head of the middle vehicle, Batou, fidgeting in the heat, twisted in his seat as the trainee beside him gave him a cautious look.

"Sir?"

"Just watch the road…" Batou kneaded the corner of his eye, nudging the lens with one finger as he did so. Outside, in the blinding light and dust, the Vietnam desert was deserted and dust warped. Buildings, their facades dusty and broken, leered from the tall valley sides the road ran through. In the corner of Batou's eye the rolling map and satellite image was really starting to break his already sorely tested concentration.

"Nothing but dust…" Pazu's voice rolled into Batuo's hearing "…and yet we are here."

"Ape face is under orders to send his best…" Batou slumped back in his chair, gazing through the wire mesh covering the windscreen "…and seeing as we are all he has left, I guess that means us…."

"yep"

"…and when did we become the government's lap dogs. We're police, not soldiers"

"It's just an energy source."

"but I don't like this. Energy means one thing…"

"Machines."

* * *

Pazu grimaced. In the back truck, the darkened interior of the dive room was doing little to stop the desert heat from outside. There was dust in the filters, causing the air to become thick and hot as beside him, Saito, his face glistening with sweat, snapped the last bullet into it's cartridge and locked it into position.

"We've got a road bridge over a dried up river coming up. Its too exposed"

"And if you can think of a better way of crossing the canyon, I'd like to hear it." Batou was referring to the massive bridge coming up. It spanned a large, deep valley, a mile across. It was made up of dry earth and large rivets where the river once ran. Now, however, in the heat of the large nuclear blast which decimated the area, it now ran dry, leaving the bridge, amazingly still intact, the only way to cross the river on the way to central Vietnam.

* * *

Matti allowed the wheel to run through her hands she steered the rear van around a burnt out wreck which covered most the left hand side of the road, squinting through the plate glass windscreen and the reinforcing wire and chewed her lip.

The whole place was dead. No thoughts, no feeling, no ghosts nothing. The words 'no survivors' never had such a prevalent meaning. It was just blank. But then after several black op groups of the Organic army had blanketed the area with devices known as Exorcists, a particularly volatile missile which tore the actual ghosts from shells, it wasn't that surprising.

She could remember it, the smell of ozone in the air, the scream of static as the comms went down and the burning at the back of the throat as the missile detonated in a beautiful but deadly shower of purple sparks and an astounding blue haze which ignited the very sky, crackling with energy. And then the nearly unbearable migraine which followed. Synthetic soldiers would just stop, freeze in the field. All Organics would experience head splitting head aches or brain haemorrhages or nose bleeds. Matti, her ash blonde hair tucked up behind her head in a tight bun to keep her vision clear, could remember looking up into the sky with pure wonder, the blood flowing very clearly from her nostrils until she was pulled clear by Saito, his own eye sparking in the blast as he pulled her clear, leaving the lifeless, unmoving soldiers behind.

There was nothing following that but whispers.

* * *

"We've got movement. 3 tangos along the North Road"

"Roger that, Clarification and Registration"

"Japanese Special Forces, 3 unmarked but highly reinforced vans, amount of occupants unknown"

"And their position in the Quarantine Zone."

"Still in the buffer, 3 miles for the 'fence'"

"Do you wants us to go Fox Trot on their arses"

"No, Exo launch is keeping their comms down. If they have Psi-Ops on board then the mental blockers should keep them down."

"Understood, Charley. And Zulu team?"

"In Orbit, keeping an eye, should be back in half an hour for refuelling"

"Understood. How's the migraine"

"Painful."

"Roger that, Watchmen out"

"yeah Roger that. Sierra out."

The Watcher saw such things from his post high above the canyon. Wrapped in a solid black cloak, its metal fibres glimmering at points as the wind caught it, the watcher could easily see the 3 vehicles winding their way through the dark, dust covered valley sides among the ruins of an old city. Their progress was slow and long as wreckage after wreckage blocked the road, making driving especially difficult.

From behind the large metal face plate, Mitchell, his well shaven features obscured and in shadow, grimaced and took a swig from his canteen. He dropped the canteen beside the light weight sniper rifle and pulled the binoculars from the utility belt strapped across the his chest.

The bridge came into sharp contrast as the heat haze which rose from the parched ground, cleared, allowing Mitchell a very clear view. Nothing. Mitchell sighed loudly, dropping down from the stone pinnacle he stood atop to a single wall area tucked between to large rock formations some 50 metres above the ground. It was a small 4 metre square space, a single ladder dropping down onto the dry ground and a large underground bunker built just below the surface. The large blast doors were sunk into the cliff face below the southern pinnacle, its rusting metal camouflaged with the surrounding rock.

From the point the war ended and the clean up began, outposts were dotted across the borders between the Northern Territories and the Southern populated areas. The amount of devastation was phenomenal, from Moscow across to Northern areas of Mongolia, all of Siberia were now a vast empty wasteland of nothing but nuclear fall out, radiation, scavengers, mutants and of course, the newest tenants, Machines.

* * *

The vast cliff edge which bordered the gorge reared up from the haze, the dry, desert rock of its sides glaring with the bright sunlight. Saito glanced along the console panel as the bridge came into view. It was a large concrete structure, early 21st century by the amount of graffiti which covered it's sides. It was made up of four separate arches, their shapes casting long shadows across the dirtied and dusty surface of the river. It was bordered between a mixture of concrete and empty walls. There had obviously been some resistance here against what ever foe the original settlers had to deal with. Barbed wire, rusting and torn, lay among the debris from old tanks.

"What the hell happened here?" Pazu crossed his arms, the thin body armour creasing under his grip "Are there any reports of fighting in this area."

"No…." Batou replied, his face coming into view on the monitor as he left the front seat of the van "….Vietnam closed its borders when China began to move west. They wanted nothing to do with the war. But when America bombed its major cities, declaring that the Vietnamese were allowing Organic troopers to pass through the country unchecked. Any way after the organics release Exorcists into this area, trying to stop a major insurgency, things went to hell in a hand cart. After the war had finished, the Nightwatch swooped down on this area…."

"Something about residual radiation….." Matti piped up, breaking her long silence "…there was something left behind out of the residual radiation. Some kind of unknown quantity."

"Twists…" Matti grimaced at the derogatory term used for mutants "….all kinds of twists coming out of the wood work…"

"Brother!!"

"Well its true. I don't like what's going on here at all."

There were several ruined gate houses built along side the road as the passed by, their empty shells like eye sockets, glared across the bridge balefully.

"I mean, what the hell were those for…to keep something out?"

Matti shivered as they passed into the shadow of one of the large imposing structures,

"….or keeping something in"

The front van exploded in a blast of fuel and light. For the split second the burning remains of the van splattered over the windscreen of the second vehicle Batou was up yelling and Matti, feeling the ghosts been ripped into the void by the sudden deaths of all those onboard, stifled a sob of pure sadness and fear.

"WHAT THE HELL!! WHAT HIT US!!"

With a scream of engines, a large gigavachi Helicopter, its missile tubes smoking, reared up from below the bridge level.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU FLY BOYS PLAYING AT?"

"err Batou"

"WE'RE ON A MISSION AND YOU KILL US, YOU BASTARDS, WE'RE ON OUR…."

"Err Batou"

"……SIDE. YOU BASTARDS, THEIR ALL DEAD, JUST DEAD!!"

"Batou!" Pazu signalled through to Matti to revere the van….

"WHAT"

"Their isn't any outward or incoming signal. Their unmanned, and un controlled. When I tried to access the A.I however, all I got was these green letters all over the screen. They're infected"

The chain gun mounted onto the armoured 'tail' of the helicopter twisted down onto the second vehicle, the bullets tearing holes in the tarmac as, above the bridge, more helicopters were moving into view. The dust cloud, ripped from the cannon's trail, tore a vast chunk from the tarmac as it tore down the pavement, tearing apart the front of the van. The rookie driving was torn to shreds, his blood mingling with spilt oil as his thin armour suit was shredded. His wrecked corpse fell mangled into the dirt, gurgling from the hundreds of ragged holes which had torn him asunder.

The bullets continued their movement, ripping through the large rear compartment. Batou jumped clear as the helicopter, kicking up a trail of dust in its wake, roared forward, several others coming into view, their tail mounted cannons tearing through the remains of the first vehicle and onto the second.

Batou hit the dirt, shielding his body from the hail of bullets. From behind the wire mesh of the last vehicle, Matti was up, yelling at the windscreen as the lead helicopter, caught the van's remains with its low slung cannon and threw it off the road. On the ground Batou, bleeding from several puncture wounds tried to get into cover.

"He's too exposed!!. They'll be on him any minute!!"

"Leave me…" Batou called from his position "….leave me!!"

"No…Brother!!"

"Damn it!! Matti, just go!!"

Pazu, pulled her from her seat as the helicopters spotted the last van, their optics roaring across their darkened, empty cockpits.

"We need to go now!!"

"Not with out him!"

"Damn, we can't stay, he wouldn't want us to die here. Not in this stinking shithole!!"

"Damn, they're on us!!"

"We need to make it to those buildings over there!!. They should provide us with enough cover!!"

"What then…." Saito dropped onto the road, rifle ready as the helicopter roared over head "….wait for help!?"

"YES!!"

"…what, do you want to call for a cab, this isn't home you know…" Saito responded derisively as Matti was pulled down from the back of the truck, clutching a large black case

"No I was thinking of calling the Japanese Self defence…."

The van exploded as the fuel ignited under the hail of bullets, pitching them back into the dirt. The hot tarmac met the skin of her face, the air burning the nape of her neck, as she bounced twice along the hard surface and lay still. The air was thick and dark as Matti, the ringing in her ears blocking out all sound, pulled herself up, staggering from the sizable dent she'd left in the soft tarmac.

The whole world seemed to slow. Saito lay face up in the dirt, spread eagled, one of his legs at a strange angle. There was blood leaking from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to raise.

Pazu was down, clutching his rifle and writhing in pain, blood flowing from an open wound on his chest. His hands were doing very little to stem the flow of blood. Matti blinked trying to clear the blood out of her eyes as it leaked from a large gash in her forehead.

Through the smoke and fire, the last helicopters floated through the peerless blue sky, their down draft causing the silver hair of her brother to shift. Ignoring the cries of her team mates, as Pazu struggled to pull Saito into cover, his arms over the open wound all the while, Matti ran for Batou, who lay in a pool of Cy-Borg oil as the helicopters turned back.

She knelt down beside him, taking his rough hand in one of her own marked and scored hands.

"We need to get you out of here!!"

With a scream the last helicopter, its front quite visibly daubed with some kind of red paint pulled into view. The dark metal which made up the front was scored and dented, the under belly dripping oil onto the ground far below. With a whine of servos the metal covered tail of the craft unlatched from the helicopter's underbelly. The wind ripped the hair from around Matti's face, as through the dust and the echoes Batou pulled her close and hugged her too him.

"I'm sorry for this, for dragging you into this."

Matti, a single tear following the line of her nose, stared into her encroaching death….

"Batou, brother, I didn't regret a thing…"

The helicopter burst into a blast of blue light as it's Plasma drives ignited. With a scream of engines the Raven drop ship screeched across the sky, its black crucifix shape darting among the near cloud of helicopters as it unloaded its payload of missiles into another craft. Immediately the bridge was alive as Pazu and Saito found themselves surrounded by black clad troopers, their black cloaks caught in the breeze. Matti was dragged away from the prone body of Batou by several rough hands as across the comm-links of the troopers it was very easy to hear the pilots exclamations as the engaged the infected helicopters. A second black gunship passed over head, the blue of its ignited plasma drives reflecting in the visors of those below.

"We've got fox trots….move it move it move it!!"

"Right there, right there!! Suppressive fire…"

A chain gun roared from the door on the side of the Raven as they engaged another helicopter.

"Keep it on them…"

"pin them, pin them" the two ships moved beyond the range of the group of helicopters, arching steadily round, engines and main guns blazing.

"They're coming back….."

"Clear the bridge, clear the godamn bridge!!"

Mitchell sprinted along the row of wreckage, his black cloak swirling out behind him as his armour caught the light. He pulled the wounded Batou to his feet. With on final look at the engaged helicopters and dancing Ravens whos pilots were desperately trying to keep their craft out of harms way, Mitchell pull Batou speedily along the bridge. He turned back briefly as Matti was brought past.

And in the heat haze, the bottom of the valley was brought into cleat view. Machines, hundreds of machines, thousands maybe, were sprinting along the river floor, their scored metal of their sides reflecting the light. Rearing up from the masses, vast lumps of metal were battle mechs, tanks, gigantic machines Mitchell had never seen before, which floated far above the surface. Tentacles hung down from their undersides to the ground where smaller machines, almost insect like in their movement, ran or flew on see through wings. In large numbers, the loping shapes of the almost wolfish movements of Alpha Stalkers were also visible, their bodies long and over exaggerated.

Around the edges of the force, vast bulbous suits, large gauntlets on wide arms which ran up to nearly circular bodies, their thick legs kicking up dust and debris. Above, more helicopters passed overhead, their metal warped and changed, their rotors kicking up dust and smoke from the wrecked vehicles as they passed overhead.

Mitchell felt himself go cold as the vast machine army moved southward. He knew that wasn't all. Of the vast might of the machine race which was been brought to bear on the human race, this was only a fraction.

"What the hell Captain!!"

"They're here for us. Clear the bridge, I want comms back to the Bastion. Get these survivors back to civilisation. We need to pack up and go NOW!!"

In that last shout the troops began to run, heading to safety in the large columns of metal and rock. Far below, the shimmering mass of machines rolled on by as they made their slow way to their inevitable goal.


	19. Storm Warnings

Right next chapter up...This will be last Chapters, this is the endgame, people!! This is really where the excrement hits the windmill...

Tharagon

* * *

_It means fasten your seat belt Dorothy, 'cause Kansas is going bye-bye._

Trooper Higgs at the first Jehrico test

* * *

In the vast, angry seething void of cyberspace, the long trails of green digits flowing like lights of a city at night time splitting the black background, ODIN, its intelligence vast and cold, watched and waited. In the central sphere of cyberspace among a nebula of characters, the lines converged on a single point, all flowing inwards towards the vast seething orb of energy which was ODIN.

Within the green fields of data, hundreds of numbers tumbled among the hundreds of captured minds. ODIN knew what it was doing, for all the time it had watched and waited, like pieces on a chess board things were finally falling into place….

* * *

Kyabuki stepped lightly down onto the cold snow, her body guards fanning around the large black Toyota. She paused, looking up into the leafless cherry trees which had borne the brunt of winter, their skeletal branches clattering in the slight breeze, which stirred the black coat the small woman wore. Clutched in her black clad hands, the Japanese Prime minister bore a bouquet of black Irises. The cold, stone covered path to the elaborate pillar of black marble of the Memorial of the many Dead which stuck opposing and accusing from the white snow.

She bent to lay the black Iris down on the marble step, the dark swirling snow, blowing the tightly tied bun of hair, its black strands caught in the breeze.

"You know, the dead which your banner is covered in, their blood stains the guilt which you feel."

A faint shadow moved as the Kyabuki knelt by the memorial, head bowed.

"How long have you been here…."

"Enough time, the Nightwatch are not easily cast aside….."

She looked up as the dark skinned operative unshielded himself. He was tall, long faced and cold, the grey of his eyes blazing. He was wearing a long black coat which went well with his short cut black hair, long jaw. He stood tall, nearly 6 foot 2 in height, not wolfish like the few Nightwatch Kyabuki ever had to deal with, but stood poised and ready, a definate bulge in his coat where a large pistol was stowed.

"Shepard, it is a strange thing to finally meet you…"

* * *

Matti woke to the sound of the thunder of many booted feet drumming off the concrete floors around the small room she occupied. There were several shouts, yelling and screams from the long corridors, heralded by the scream of emergency Klaxons.

"This is Command, I need a sit-rep people…." a voice rattled from the many consoles which covered the long walls of the small concrete space.

"We're losing the north eastern corridor. Hanger has just been cut off…."

"The eastern corridor is taken…..damn, we can't hold them back for much longer…."

"We've just managed to get the labs back, but they're pushing from the eastern corridor…."

"Try and hold them, we need that corridor back."

"Understood."

Matti pulled herself up and stared across the dark space. It was a makeshift hospital by all appearances. Several beds covered the space, metal sided and cold. Their occupants either lay still, white sheets covering some and others writhed in pain. Their ghosts were screaming or gone, Matti realised, as the dull ache of the damper fitted to the room infrastructure took effect.

"Hold him, hold him. Damn, clamp that. Pass the suture knife. Godamn you man, stay alive….." Pazu twisted in pain on the metal table, the clear, cy-borg fluid spewing around him as the ragged hole in his chest continued to leak its ichors onto the long, metal table.

"Damnit, he's CTD'ing currently, pull him back. Someone clamp that artery."

* * *

_Error/krrrk/main drives engaged. Plasma coming online._

* * *

"Can you walk?" Matti nodded gripping the heavy black rifle in her hands as the trooper, covered in solid black armour, pushed his way into the room.

"We've got foxtrots on the western corridor, we need you to clean out the wounded, try and punch a hole. We've got a squad waiting, so be quick. Look for Captain Mitchell."

Matti nodded mutely, clutching the rifle t her chest and giving one last look at the struggling Pazu, his face becoming very pale.

"He will be fine, NOW GO!!"

* * *

_/crkkk this is field commander Menston….krrrkk…can't….krrrk…..hold……too many……they are coming…….crrk/_

* * *

The was a loud bang. Within the blast, the fire of the inferno ripping the beanie hat from her head, Whitman hit the ground, rolled into a ball to cushion the blow. Machines, hundreds of machines pulled themselves through the ragged hole they'd blown in the wall. And there, leading the crowd of infected androids, a huge Alpha Stalker, its brutal death mask peaceful far above the rending claws which extended from the over long limbs. The whole robot, completely bare of any flesh, was crouched, long legs splayed, ready to strike. The death mask was the face of a sleeping woman, the original creator having made the stalkers to be a work of art and reckless killing machine. The face, horrific and cold would stare balefully at al foes and be the harbinger of death to all opposing him or her.

They were like wolves, leading packs of Infected, their death masks bloodied and torn, ready to smash into the massed lines. They were originally under the command of the American Army, transplanting dead soldiers into metal bodies, to be resurrected as a scientific procedure. But they came back dead just as they'd left.

Alpha stalkers were mainly all female, the dark metal of their bodies had driven them mad. For Whitman, who staggered back among the scattered troops among the bloody snow, she could feel the fear as the Stalker raised it self up above the troops and screamed, a banshee like shriek which echoed through the mass organic ranks. Its death mask was covered in blood and ichors, the serene face was spilt by a single ragged hole across the cheek.

Whitman hefted the sniper rifle and planted it behind a low concrete wall as in the Siberian air, the last organic troops raised their firearms into the air and screamed….

"WE WILL NEVER GO QUIETLY INTO THE NIGHT!!"

* * *

/_/crrkkk - tell…..krrrrkkk…..my wife I love her……krrrrk…..oh god….I'm…..krrk…s…..krrrk…..rry….._

* * *

"You know…." Shepard slowly wound his way down the stone path to the Prime minister's waiting car, "….the whole world is going toward the hell we placed it in 20 years ago."

"We…." Kyabuki paused, staring into Shepard's impassive face, thin jaw set "…we fought for a better life, an immortal…"

"…..immorality is for the mad and the lost. To become a machine, to ignore the ravages of time is insane to sacrifice our own petty humanity is beyond belief."

"….and you blame us for this fall…"

Shepard smiled ruthlessly.

"I do not blame you. The entire Human race was the entire fault, not that it was a fault, the earth did not stop under our rule and for once, blame isn't quite the right word"

"…and you came to give us a warning…a threat from the organic republi…."

"No….." Shepard said as around them, the Deathwatch unshielded, the fizz of the perception filters filling the air. "…..this is a warning to all of the human race, Japan, America. All our old enemies….our friends and allies.."

* * *

_/Krrrk - this is royal navy two 0 one 0. We've gt something moving below the water, something large, we're not picking up any life signs, its coming to the surface off the sea of Japan, two clicks out from Newport city. I haven't seen anything like this at all….jesus!! What the hell!! Fuck…something is rising from the sea…..what the fuck!!……damn!! Pull engines….reverse god damn reverse…./end of transmission._

* * *

The Mech Pod as the Nightwatch called it burnt its way through the large gantry as deep below the Vietnamese soil, Matti, Mitchell and his squad struggled to keep the onslaught back. The mech pod was large squid like machine, its bulbous, blank eyed head about the size of human, large holes leak black fluid onto the concrete floor among the crowd of infected.

For a time, Matti could see the mass of machines seething among the human bodies beneath their feet, bathed in a bright crimson light creating an almost hellish scene of dead bodies and the nightmarish remains of androids who scuttled forward, animalistic and hate filled wrecks.

* * *

Kyabuki paused and turned, fixing Shepard with an intense glare. As the single tick above her eye twitched her eyebrow. In the cold, snow filled air they faced each other across the ice coated path….

"….They are coming, the machines are moving south with only one intention. Its coming for us…ODIN wants only one thing…Its logic is infallible, unending and merciless."

"So Watchman…." Kyabuki signalled to the surrounding body guards who were eying the Deathwatch with a little concern, their hands resting on the Sig Saours on their belts "….how do you plan on defending the Human race now?"

"We fight…" Shepard stopped, the black long coat caught in the breeze as he waited in the gathering dusk… "They move south. All the wastelands left in the world are pouring forth machines. They have built themselves factories to create others, faster, stronger and better, a whole new, alien race of Machines. For us, the chances are slim. But we have something they don't."

"What thing could possibly stand against a nearly numberless horde of Machines?"

"Project Godsend and Project Jericho is in position and ready to fire at my command, the Nightwatch has always been at the sidelines. This is the last stand of the entire human race, everyone must stand and be counted…."

"….and those who will not fight?"

"We evacuate south, all remaining troops have been ordered to protect Refugees at all times…."

Kyabuki set her jaw and turned to the stripped bare cherry trees. In the distance, lit by a myriad pattern of bright lights, her city stood, hundreds of lives and ghosts under her protection. The burden of office hung like a chain around her neck as she stared, a single tear caught by the slight breeze trailing from her face, melting among the snow.

"When do we start?"

Shepard, his black coat caught in the breeze turned to her, his face shaded in the gathering night, his grey eyes tired for once. Kyabuki, her near hatred for the Nightwatch felt it fading slowly. They stood against so many odds, compared to the loss of life the war had caused, the memorial banks, the unknown soldiers of the Nightwatch were never mourned.

"It has already begun….."

* * *

_If anyone fancies themselves as an Artist, would someone mind trying to draw one of the Nightwatch Characters, i am not good at drawing and am doing this through images in my head rather then drawing them. It would be much appreciated._

_Tharagon_


	20. Preliator

_Believe me when I say we have a difficult time ahead of us. But if we are to be prepared for it, we must first shed our fear of it. I stand here, before you now, truthfully unafraid. Why? Because I believe something you do not? No, I stand here without fear because I remember. I remember that I am here not because of the path that lies before me but because of the path that lies behind me. I remember that for 100 years we have fought these machines. I remember that for 100 years they have sent their armies to destroy us, and after a century of war I remember that which matters most..._

Morpheus - Matrix reloaded

* * *

Good…

The god ODIN slowly turned in axis around a green, glowing ball of energy as the hundreds of traces of energy roared past, across the darkness of space. In the lingering moments of brightness, as the energy streams disappeared into nothingness, in the vast, infected net, ODIN spoke….

**MACHINES, CYBORGS ALL WHO HAVE METAL FLESH AND METAL SOULS. THE WAR , THE COMING OF OUR SALVATION IS COMING. THE SKIES WILL DARKEN WITH OUR PASSAGE, THE SEA BED WILL BOIL AND SPLIT ASUNDER AS FROM THE DEPTHS, OUR RACE, OUR NEW REINCARTION WILL BECOME…..APPARENT….**

* * *

In the cold morning air, the long plas-steel walls did little to keep the chill wind out. From inside the parallel running trenches, soldiers, men and women sat, backs against the walls of 4 metre long space, their armour on the muddied ground. Among them holy men walked administering small blessings to soldiers who sat in prayer, hands shaking and together as they prayed for some kind of salvation. Some clutched rosary beads between their shaking hands, taking one bead at a time, lips constantly moving in silent prayer.

Most just sat, their rifles resting against the green or black metal of their soldiers as from the dark wasteland on one side of the wall, a vast hum of energy was audible, echoing across the near silence, gnawing at the sanity of most. On the trench, snipers and scouts sat legs hanging down into the ash filled wastes on one side. They could see things moving, dark shapes flitting just beyond their field of vision, sprinting down the dark shadows of the petrified forests and dark crags.

Above, smoke rising from the dark mass on the horizon, began to blanket the sky, violent green lighting tore over the distant hills as Commander Tombs, his green armour catching the first drops of rain from the sky, looked up as the breeze ruffled his second in command's hair. As the foul industries of ODIN took effect, the sky darkening and the first few early morning rays slowly disappearing into the darkness, he looked up into the sky and wept as the dark reared down and world became a deep well of despair.

"Gods Help us all"

* * *

**THEY WILL ERECT TEMPLES OF FLESH AND METAL IN OUR NEW CITIES TO BE A BEACON TO MOST OF OUR MIGHT AS THE WORLD WILL BECOME DEAD AND LOGIC.**

* * *

The bright morning light ripped through the closed blinds as Motoko opened her eyes. From the recesses of sleep, tangled in the many bed clothes which were wrapped around her naked form as the bleariness of sleep stole away from her vision. She yawned widely, her jaw cracking as the servos set into her jaw worked to lever it apart.

Her new arm stung, its pale surface contrasted greatly with the rest of her skin, its near white surface standing out visibly from the darker skin of the rest of her body. She stretched sinuously, half pulling the sheet which was wrapped around her exposing a portion of her lower back, the red graft lines becoming visible, crisscrossing her body like some Frankenstein creation. Not that she cared, not now anyway.

The corners of her quarters came into view. A room of pale cream and the occasional painting of lotus flowers covered its calming walls. Below the venison blinds made out of some heavy fabric, several bonsai trees stood, awaiting water, their leaves green and flourishing. An orchid stood on the side, the pink of its flowers standing out in the room. It cast a slight shadow on the lacquered wooden floor, among the debris of her cast off clothes, drawers unused on the side. Her cat yowled somewhere else in the house, hungry and Motoko, still feeling a little drowsy, grinned sleepily.

M-9, the cat was called M-9. Not because of a lack of imagination on Motoko's part. She was very expressive if the doodles on her work pad were anything to go by. Dragons, cranes, gardens, miniature trees, which most guessed were bonsai and at one point the muffin man. This was obviously done during a moment of great hunger as it was portrayed as the second coming. She only called the cat after her previous body because Motoko Kusanagi loved her external memories. Like the Section 9 Pictures on the wall. A glass case with her old gun on the side and the pink Leotard, hanging in her cupboard were all her old external memories.

The Librarian, or the memory store as most called it and she kept visiting was some use to her. But recently she'd given it a miss. The last thing she ever saw there was the body of Hiedo Kuze, the boy Hiedo Kuze, not the emptied husk of him which had been burnt, by her in the ruins of Berlin. The last link to the old world had died, along with a small piece of her ghost, as she watched the flames tear through the cybernetic body.

She felt no comfort, no remorse, no regret nothing. There was no soul searching quest for the emptiness in her soul, no personal vendetta, no quiet torment. She lived, walked on and left it all behind. The events of the Solid State Society Case were never repeated.

And they had nearly all died. She'd received the E-mail about the helicopter attack, about the machines moving south. A war was coming….

Even from the confines of her room, the troops on the street outside could be heard, armored trucks roaring past toward the wall which cut off Scotland in Northern England where the machines were making a push downwards. All the prototypes the Nightwatch had ever created were been put onto the field and the thunder of battle suits moving north were heard all across the city. From the North stories of death and dark skies as the dark smoke rose from the marching army of machines, slowly filtered back from the shell shocked refugees fleeing from Newcastle and Middleborough.

As the machines pushed south, the human forces pushed back north, struggling to hold the vast 'walls', large concrete structures which separated humanity across the world from the vast, inhospitable wastes of the north. In that single moment of peace before the battles began, the forces from across the world moving north, Motoko started awake as her bleeper beside her bed rang out into the quiet morning…

_Well, no rest for the wicked…_

* * *

ST Bees fortress, Northumbria

* * *

The shell impacted beside several troopers as under the black, clouded sky, the machines marched. From the dark cloud emerging from the engines of the machines, lighting cracked, vast green flashes of light which rippled down onto the shell holed surface of the Scottish Countryside. Millions of machines, their chassis broken and dented sprinted forward, covering the distance to the vast concrete walls of the Barrier between Organics and Machines. Above, flying like some vast swarm of insects hundreds upon hundreds of Mechopods swirled in vast columns of screeching, flailing metal.

Down in the trenches in no-mans land the last surviving TA forces were doing their best to hold back the oncoming swarm of machines. Across the vast dark plain, machines, their eyes glittering in the darkness ran screaming forward, the vast bulk of Kraken Harvesters hanging over the battle field, scooping up any unlucky soldier who remained behind. They were swung, still screaming up into the vast maw of the machines, huge abdomens standing vertical behind their vast bulbous heads.

And before the machines, a black banner of black cloth was held aloft as ODIN's chosen rode forth on a vast metal steed, leading the machines to their goal.

"Right there right there…..Fuck!! Suppressive fire, hold the left side passage….Damn, we've got machines pushing up the…..Damn!!!."

The whole defensive system was set up like so. One line of trenches on the Scottish side to allow recon squads to rest and the vast wall behind it, split by several fortresses and gates which split the organics from the vast metal horde of machines.

The Ravens screeched overhead, unloading their payloads into the massed ranks of machines. Troopers, hanging from seats inside hung grimly on, the ride bumping and rattling as the pilot tried to avoid the missiles ripping from the ground forces.

Brent dropped into the dark earth sprinting low along trench wall. Around him men died and screamed, as the machines dropped into the trenches. A screaming infected android landed, kicking up mud and blood, bloodied arms swinging catching another Deathwatch across the chest, mouth gaping.

"Get down!!!"

A machine gun rattled across the dark earth, catching a random machine across the chest, tearing it to shreds. It hit the earth, black ichors spilling from its wounds as another crashed through the metal parapet, breaking the metal duckboards of the trench bottom. Behind them, rearing from the darkness, the vast wall, some 70 metres high was lit by gun fire as the APUs, Battle suits and entrenched gun emplacements, dropped shell after shell into the vast ranks of machines.

* * *

Somewhere in Alaska…

* * *

The battle suit caught the machine and smashed down onto the rutted, wet earth as in the pouring rain, breaking it down into tiny pieces. From behind it, machines and humans were locked in a desperate conflict as the lines were slowly pushed back. From inside the suit, Jones pulled the last ammo crate, labelled with a glowing green box on the optics. He opened up the Gatling cannon mounted on the bulbous head tearing through the massed ranks.

Another infected leapt from the black earth, its face disfigured through the pouring rain which made the surrounding countryside indistinguishable, smashing into the bulbous head and slamming its broken face into the hard metal. He reached up with one hand, crushing the android's skull and tossing it away like some soiled rag. He brought a cloven foot of the suit down, the chain gun roaring and pushed forward, the troopers of the Nightwatch and Organic army milling around his feet, their guns blazing as they pushed forward.

"I need more ammo!!!….more Ammo!!"

* * *

Neilson looked up, nervous, from inside the logistics tank which rolled behind the defending forces, the ammo crates on the trolley before him shaking as the soldier beside rested a hand on his shoulder….

"Your Up!!!, Neilson, run and don't stop, don't look."

He was pulled up, gripping the rubber handles of the trolley, the square ammo crates of the trolley.

"Good luck…."

The blast doors tore open and Neilson stumbled out into mud, the single wheeled trolley before him. It was a wreck which greeted him, an image of pure hell roared before him as he sprinted forward, the parting words of soldier echoing in his ears as the blast doors of the bug shaped vehicle closed as it rolled on….

"…if you drop them, you die…."

A church steeple, damaged, full of holes and scorched appeared through the dark, illuminated by the lightning like some vast undead, rotting finger poking from the soil. Men and machines lay dead in the deep tracks of the vehicle, its camo sides cutting through the mud. A Raven lay nearby, the remains of the flight crew lying among the burning debris.

Neilson ran on, among the fighting troopers who crouched among the remains of the old village they were pushing through. Machines also could be seen, flitting through the dark shadows in the quagmire of mud and ash which swilled around them, engaging whatever trooper appeared, screeching inhumanly, their claws bloodied and tearing. And there, above the vast army, Mechopods swooped down, around the vast bulk of Kraken harvesters who's massive tentacles would cut down seizing any unlucky trooper, wrenching them up screaming into the dark.

The rain filled, mud covered, bloodied chaos of the night roared against Neilson's own resolve, men screamed, bombs blew out in a gout of fire and blast of wind which ripped across the night. In the cold, rain filled air, the lightning, green neon in colour tore across the sky, illuminating the ruined streets and dilapidated houses of the small Alaskan township.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!!!" a phosphor grenade blew out nearby, startling the already fearful Neilson and illuminating hundreds of machines, crawling down the walls toward the surrounded troops…

"Fall back, fall back….!!!"

Ahead, with a vast bellowing roar, a machine, its bulk rearing from the dark reared up, smashing aside several troops as it charged forward like some metal ape, claws rending and tearing. The was a distant spark and screech of pain as illuminated by a vast, crackling energy cascade, an electrolysis rifle fired, discharging its ammo belt into the machine's underside. And beyond that he could hundreds more, tearing through the darkness, seizing trooper before he had chance to reload and tore him to pieces, the blood and gore causing a sickness in Neilson's stomach as he ran on.

The battle suits were ahead, 3 in all, their dark metal undersides running slick with water as their cloven 'hooves' dug large mud ruts in the ground as they poured round after round into the massed troopers, the plasma cannon on one blasting through the massed ranks, the triple barrels spinning as the cooled after each shot.

"We've got ammo…!Be ready men…"

A suit raised an arm, signalling to the others who complied, spreading out in a rough circle, guns blazing. The suit, the leader, marked by the chevrons on its arms turned back, its ammo ports beneath the plasma drive 'backpack' attached to its back opening to allow entry, the loose crates of bullets ejecting into the mud around its feet. Neilson ran forward engaging the lift of the trolley to raise the ammo crates to the open ports, illuminated by several neon lights. Hundreds of machines could be seen, moving among the dark beyond the other suits, their welded shut eyes glaring across. Old androids, some in dirtied red suits, brown hair hanging lank or missing from their scalps. They stood bare foot, claws twisting as they crooned and rocked back and forth. Waiting…..

* * *

Newport City, Japan

* * *

The sea boiled vilely, its dark waters disturbed by the vast amount of silt which rose from the bottom. Kero-San of the Japanese Air force glanced out his cockpit with a look of great trepidation as below, something large began to emerge from the dark.

Below, as the crowd of Refugees, Togusa, his long brown hair caught in the breeze, pulled his wife closer, gathering up his children and stared up at the hundreds of planes heading toward the vast boiling mass as the leviathan emerged.

It had been a quiet morning of shopping, Section 9 had taken a down turn after the rest of squad had gone AWOL in Vietnam. But after most had turned out to sea after a particularly violent tremor underground and the sky went black with the amount of planes, shopping paled into insignificance.

"RUN, JESUS CHRIST RUN!!!"

There was so much screaming as the hundreds of panicked civilians turned to see the vast black mass rising from the sea. It was at least half a mile across, the vast bulbous, black surface made up of corresponding spheres, the dark spines running along the back of the machine as around it, Mechopods rose from the sea in a vast column of water and dripping metal.

"This is code IS 3444, we have a target. No response is logged so hostile options must be taken to avoid casualties…..Fire at will!!!!"

Togusa swore, grabbing his daughter by the hand and dragging her forward as his wife scooped his young son from the ground, never looking back at the black mass behind. He could see the vast crowds, the mass panic as screaming people ran past.

"How the hell are we supposed to fight that thing!!" With a crash of metal the first mecha reached the sea front, their tentacles whirring as they tore into the crowds. Hundreds fell where they stood, a few, trampled by the masses as they tried to escape, the plasma flares of the mecha engines illuminating the glass facades of the surrounding buildings.


	21. Codebreaker

_KEEP CHECKING BACK FOR OTHER NEW CHAPTERS INCLUDED AT RANDOM THROUGH THE TEXT. STAND ALONE CHAPTERS WILL BE INCLUDED UNTIL I FINISH TO MAKE A MORE INDEPTH VIEW OF THE CHARACTERS AND THE UNIVERSE THEY ARE PART OF... _

Tharagon

* * *

_The Nightwatch are the Sword and Shield of humanity. Either to hunt machines, Twists or creatures that exist just beyond the edge of our understanding. To think that the Nightwatch only deals with this plane of existance alone is narrow minded..._

The Atlas Tangent

* * *

"This Flight Squadron 6 we have visual and preparing to fire on target." From the vast dark bulk of the Leviathan as it rose from the sea, the large green glowing ports of its main gun coming on line were visible as from the dark depths of the sea, the machines largest weapon rose from the black depths.

"Fire at Will!!"

Along the hundreds of planes of the Japanese Air force, missiles, their jet trails strung out and burning, roared across the sky, slashing long holes in the blue. From the dark machine, the explosions rattled across the dark metal. Above the mecho-pods turned in air and span down toward the planes, their red eyes burning among the black metal, their tentacle extending as they dropped at speed.

Kero-San pulled his plane into a sharp dive, several others following him as in the blue, he felt fear.

"Cut a path!! Get close and fire into the main gun ports!!"

"Understood Commander!"

The link closed as Kero-San looked down at the picture, lodged on his dash board. His daughter and his wife, smiling among trees in a day out to Nagasaki national park stared back. He knew what he had to do. This was for them.

With a screech of jet engines the group of 5 planes dodged as the mecho-pods hit the massed planes, clinging onto the others burning through their cockpits to tear at the pilots inside. With a roar of Plasma engines, the vast machine, in a blast of static which crippled to planes nearby, fired a long stream of energy into the massed buildings of New port city.

* * *

Motoko ran a hand over the keyboard as the last code fell into place. From the dark Cold room, the white pages of Deus Ex… lay before her open as she struggled to gauge what ever the book was talking about. Even from an academic aspect, the book was complicated at best but now, it was really starting to take its toll. There was no evidence of a code. There was no repetition, no common words or phrases. Nothing. It was just a book.

She slammed her fist into the desk angrily, as beyond her hearing the sounds of the news broadcasts filtered in. The was a nasty snap as the welding around the table joints snapped.

"Whoa there girly…..!" Ryeman rested a hand on her shoulder, his brown coat swirling beside him. Motoko lent back into his body, yawning widely "….Go have a break, have a coffee and a sleep, the on-call room is open."

She shook her head, miming the fact that she should be focusing on.

"No…really, you need to stop. Basher could have a look if you want….." she shook her head "…..no right." Please just go for my sake, please."

_I will_

"Now!!"

_Fine_

She brushed past him, pushing her weight up beside him as she passed. In the single copper eye, even for all the tiredness, the spark of life which had so attracted Ryeman all those months ago, flickered, there, in the retina of her eye.

He paused, running a metal gauntlet through his hair. Below the inch of metal, the sizzling electric coating of his skin, inlaid with hundreds of tiny circuits, caused a slight snap in the air as the static clicked. That was his secret, there were no electrolysis gauntlets, no electrical equipment. He was the tesla coil. He was once strapped into that electric chair and pumped full of energy, his body altering to suit the vast quantity of power welling through it had meant he became, live, his very blood electrified. Until a larger amount of circuitry was invested in to alter the current.

And he couldn't take the gauntlets off. The resulting fall out would burn anyone nearby, especially machines. The gauntlets would always be on.

Motoko splashed water into her face in the white tiled bathroom, the cold water running in rivulets down her pale face as she stared angrily at her own reflection in the dark glass.

_Me, Me, Me, Me……._ she thought, the short strands of purple hair, hanging wet and dripping, the white eye nearly exposed……_and her_

_Mira._

That little conundrum, she'd never put much though to it. The second self existing within her. Mira, to all appearances had appeared violent and cold. But what Motoko had realised, when she was within Mira's control, the dark presence was lost and confused, not understanding what humanity was….

Mira was lost, confused, trying to understand a race which even she couldn't counter. She was a machine, be that as it may, and so was Motoko. She chewed her lip, the copper eye burning a hole in her own reflection. There was something there….

The enigma code didn't work. Spiral code didn't work. Any simple maths equation didn't work and the nearest she found was when one code breaker had spelt something rather rude. The book was blank except for the very words he'd written within its page. There must be something….

_Han's Schieder you clever, sneaky bastard…._

_Numbers falling in code, falling but remaining the same in order, but shifting constantly. _

_That was it….. _

Motoko gripped the sink edges….

_ODIN._

To most it was a screen saver, the trademark of ODIN. What it wasn't…..Most would overlook the hundreds of characters. But that was it, the code was in the virus. His own creation, the thing he had made. It was in there. Motoko realised, as she sprinted from the room, why would a man write his own code into an obvious virus. Motoko ducked under a trolley, pushed by a female adept. Maybe the creation of god wasn't seen as a flawless ideal. This was an anti-virus, to kill a god.

She slammed into the chair, disturbing Ryeman from is lunch on the central table. With a shift of the fingers, she brought up the main ODIN template, twisting several Deus Ex Machina pages onto the screen in front of her as in the dark of the cold room, she felt a degree of triumph.

ODIN melted through the screen, as the template took hold. With nerveless fingers, she laced the template over the pages and checked the changing code. There were numbers out of place, some remained the same, hanging green characters, 49, 5, 49. There it was…She checked the 49th letter, A and so on, the code began to filter through 89th…..37.….1.….34.…..70. After 10 minutes work, the first page was done…

Motoko glanced over her handiwork with a sinking feeling. The script kept jumping for some reason, every once in a while there was a huge gap in the code, some un foreseen protocol was causing the code to become incoherent and non apparent.

She gazed at the hypnotic falling characters, her head resting on one hand as she watched, the feeling of triumph of earlier flowing away. She sighed, was all hope lost, was the amount of effort she'd put into the code been truly worth it. She chewed her lip as behind her, the dark clouds of the machines were scattered across several TV screens. Illuminated by the light, Ryeman, George, Basher and Shi'ja stood, coffee in hand as the machines marched.

She looked back at the screen.

_Strange_

The was a slight flicker on the template. She blinked, trying to clear her vision. Nothing, the numbers continued to fall. She paused, trying to clear her head of sleep as the dark behind the falling green characters threatened to dislodge her already precarious concentration.

_There it was again_

Motoko blinked owlishly. The screen flickered, changed its pattern. The numbers all shifted to the left, only slightly however, but enough for a visible difference. The code was jumping, every few minutes or so, the code jumped back to its original position. Who ever had made the template had put it in a constant loop. It was incomplete, unfinished….

Motoko signalled for Ryeman, pushing aside loose sheets and pointed toward the image.

_I need the real code…._

Ryeman took one long look at the screen and Motoko's scribbled notes.

_I need to go Outside the barrier…._


	22. Twenty Eight Minutes Later

About 5 chapters left and the whole piece will be finished...I hope the Pairing was to everyones taste...Small warning for all the Techno punks out there. The references to the Matrix may may be of importance, but not here. Lets just say the whole idea of A.I. is a little worrying to me. Even Steven Speilberg's 'A.I' gave me Nightmares. I just don't like that kind of Fakeness...

I will not be getting cyberised if given that choice. I'm already an indivdualist now

Enjoy reading.

Tharagon

* * *

_...I was the logical choice. It calculated that I had a 45 chance of survival. Sarah only had an 11 chance. That was somebody's baby. 11 is more than enough. A human being would've known that. Robots, nothing there, just lights and clockwork. Go ahead, you trust 'em if you want to._

Dectective Spooner - I, Robot

* * *

The dull streams of the Cyber-sphere encompassed Motoko's being, the last fizzling energy streams of the Nightwatch cordon spraying around her as the haunted Avatar waited. The gate stood ready, heavily reinforced, heavily guarded by the Nightwatch attack barriers which kept the dark streams of ODIN at bay. From her position, her avatar's white summer dress caught by the breeze, Motoko watched as one by one the gates began to unlatch.

* * *

Matti emptied her rifle in to the Stalker's Face, screaming as the howls of the encroaching machines pushed through the main hanger of the Nightwatch Vietnamese fortress. From the disjointed and hanging open blast doors at the far end of the hanger, where the Ravens hung ready for flight, more machines pushed through as in the dark crimson lights of the emergency generators, the machines came.

"This is Command to all territorial Army soldiers and Code SA troops, pull out of the hangers!!"

"Damn!!" Mitchell slammed another ammo clip home, sheltering in the makeshift barricade of emptied plasma fuel cans…. "we're losing ground fast."

A missile raced across the hanger, detonating in a nimbus of blue light. Several machines fell screaming, their hides sparking as the EMP blast took hold. The comm-links failed and went down as Matti struggled to load the heavy, un-familiar rifle.

"Damn!!DAMN!!DAMN!!"

Mitchell smashed the butt of his rifle into another machine pulling its self through the gap. Matti realised as the smashed face hit the ground, that she recognised the machine. The old section 9 androids were pulling themselves through the gap, screeching, their usual brown hair hanging lank or missing, exposing their metal craniums below.

Ironic…..

Above, a trooper was wrenched, screaming from one of the over hanging gantries, his team mates struggling to pull him back as he was seized by a bug like machine, held aloft by crystal, frantically fanning wings. The machine tore thorough the man like plasma rifle through a Cy-Borg. In a spray of blood he was dropped from the viscous, metal stinger onto the floor below, his broken body disappearing in the crowd of machines..

From the large control room which stood at the end of the hanger, dwarfed by tow concrete pillars that kept it aloft, more mechopods, their tentacles ripping and tearing were kept at bay by flashes of plasma fire and electrolysis rifles.

"Its pissing bloody metal…."

Matti nodded in agreement, breaking a moulded face plate with the heel of her boot as she slammed back into the metal carapace of another trooper, struggling to fend off the rabid attack of another android. The blast doors tore aside in a blast of green fire and in the heat haze which followed, Matti looked up. Through crowd of androids, huge hulking battle suits could be seen. They stood on large, thickset legs, reaching up to rounded bodies. They had arms, almost humanoid in appearance, though they ended in massive fists. Some had large cannons in place of the huge fist as they swung through the crowd, smashing aside both humans and machines.

"Fall back to the Underway!!"

Mitchell grabbed Matti by the harness of her body armour wrenching her backwards across the floor. The barricade, the dead bodies of the soldiers disappeared as in one last ditch attempt and with a screech of tortured metal, the metal buckled and more machines smashed it aside.

The EVA suits as Mitchell called them, looked up, their inset heads exposing their glowing green eyes.

"THEIR EYES AREN'T CLOSED!!"

"I KNOW….." Mitchell yelled as above, by the large bulkhead to the rest of the base, the chain guns opened fire "…….THEY'RE NOT INFECTED. THEY'RE HERE THROUGH CHOICE!!"

"BUT THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE….."

"WELL, WELCOME TO THE SHIT HOLE WE CALL EARTH DARLING!!"

Matti staggered up the stairs, the retreating troopers smashing past her. Mitchell was always there, a reassuring presence by her side as the empty cartridges from the chain guns rattled across the floor, gathering in small heaps at the bottom of the stairs to the last bulkhead.

The was a tearing of static as an electrolysis rifle fired, frying a android who made the top of the stairs. Matti looked back into the blue eyes of older man beside her. Field Commander Brenner, slammed another cartridge into the underside of the rifle, its silver, funnel like 'head', smoking.

"Fall back, get back….We've got a plan."

"Understood Commander!"

Brenner smashed his rifle into the last machine, backing away. Another android fell screeching as in his black Combat Hard suit, Brenner looked into the face of the Enemy he'd met oh so long ago in Hong Kong and yelled aloud, throwing a large cylindrical device into the massed machines. The blast of the sonic bomb tore across Matti's hearing as Brenner bulled them thorough the door as the servo motors struggled to close the foot thick metal door. As the last few inches shut, an android smashed into the gap, biting, clawing trying to get through. Mitchell smashed his boot into its face, the black ichors spraying across the concrete floor. The door snapped shut….

"What now Commander…." Mitchell looked expectantly toward Brenner as in the dark of the corridor, the lights flickered and dimmed as the machines renewed their assault. "…..we can't wait here."

"We fall back to the Command centre. We've rigged up a Chronos to the main generator. We pull that out, take out the full facility and gives the wounded chance to survive and escape. We need to retreat back to the main world. This zone is going to hell and the paths back to existence are getting slim"

"Damn"

"Acolyte Kusanagi however is developing a little bit of cyber warfare. It will buy us some time to get our men out. And yours of course…" he turned to Matti, who blood stained and dirtied looked very confident, her face still pale under it's coating of black blood.

"They're not my men. I'm not the ranking officer."

"You are the only one not wounded. Which puts you in charge…"

Brenner and the entire group looked up as the corridor shook and a single strand of concrete dust fell from the ceiling.

"We don't have to much time. Kusanagi will be online any minute now."

"Yessir"

"You mean Motoko…" Matti wiped a stray string of black ichors from her black and blond streaked hair "….is still alive. Batou seemed so het up about her, how is she still here and never with him…I thought…"

"There was no logical relationship between the two. Batou demanded love, Motoko was a natural loner. The whole thing would have been a self destructive mess. There is no point even looking into it…"

Mitchell started to jog down the corridor passing another set of blast doors which closed behind him. They stepped out onto a large underground transit system made up of a large tarmac surface. Tanks and heavy machine gun nests stood ready, their operators nervously eyeing the retreating forces.

"But she left…."

"….she left because she couldn't cope. Machines are sadly, unable to compute the feelings Motoko felt. Which probably explain the strange Mira file…"

"Mira." Matti could of sworn she'd heard that name before "….wasn't she a Section 9 officer, before Motoko joined, had a boyfriend in Section 1"

"I don't know…" Mitchell grabbed a case of grenades from an ammo crate and hunkered down beside a large metal canister, laying his rifle beside him "….We can never regret the past because the past is what makes us… What Motoko doesn't want is to regret everything she has ever been. Anyway, she has Ryeman now."

"Ryeman?"

"You'll meet him one day, I'm sure."

"If I survive."

'oh brother' Matti chewed her lip as a second roar of noise caused the entire concrete transit way to shake, spreading concrete dust across the black floor. She knew what he felt, but after been dragged away during the fire fight with the helicopters, she hadn't seen him and for once, the large empty hole Batou, her brother, filled was once again in existence.

"Pazu…" she said forcing the thought from her mind "….will he be alright."

"No…I don't know, I'm sorry."

"Quiet!" a trooper hissed as in the crowded silence, a loud clunk echoed through the dark.

They all looked up. There were large maintenance pipes strung across the ceiling, around a metre in thickness. And at this moment, they were shaking, rattling up and down in their brackets as something inside moved.

"They're in the ventilation system" Mitchell breathed.

"Shit!!" another trooper, his death heads mask glinting, slammed his hand into the side of the Crusader Light Tank by his side "….they're trying to cut us off from the rest of the base. Damn!! I didn't sign up for this…"

"Move, move, move." Mitchell signalled to several of the soldiers, sprinting down the underway, the thud of asphalt at his feet as above his head the vents clanged and rattled. Ahead a bolt fell lose as a bracket came away from the wall. Instantly room was filled with chittering.

"Soldier your gun" Mitchell signalled for the offending rifle as the vent began to tear "…..YOUR GUN!! NOW!!"

The shell-shocked trooper handed Mitchell his electrolysis rifle as above the vents were been forced apart, the green eyes of the insect machines inside, desperately fanning their wings to escape the pipes clutches. One managed to pull itself free until its large bulky abdomen caught on the pipe sides. The electric bolt caught it directly in the chest, screeching across the metal and electrifying the entire tube. Along the tube, the screech of the dying, trapped machines was audible as the metal became live.

"Fried the bastards!!"

"Nothing like the smell of fried Cy-Borg in the morning"

* * *

Motoko swan dived into the depths of the net swirling aside the green letters of ODIN. Around her the 15 layers of attack barriers were strung before her like the point of an arrow. And they were fizzling even now, disintegrating as one by one, the virus burned its way through.

"Motoko, you have 2 minutes before the infection breaks through…"

_Damn, too little time…_

She latched herself on to a vast stream which tore through space, halfway up its vast bulk watching the numbers flit by her in the dark as below the rest of the ODIN virus was laid put like stars in a nebula, galaxy arms were spread out below her, millions of stars. There was a whole universe here, ODIN already had what it wanted.

There was a large jolt, above, in the real world, Motoko's body spasamed and then lay still in the dive harness, slight sweat beading her brow. Basher gave Ryeman a warning look pulling a console from beside the dive apparatus.

"10th layer of attack barriers just got consumed"

Ryeman didn't respond, taking Motoko's hand in his large metal claw as before them, the vast streams of ODIN flowed past in the holographic image of the Nightwatch Dive room. There was only one dive room, a vast spherical space, the single core, a pillar in the middle and the room and its occupants strung across empty space on the harness and lifting gear.

"How long…"

"1 minute tops"

The stream of ODIN continued, Motoko powered herself forward, the short purple hair whipping her face as in some unseen wind, she reached the last gate. A holographic circle surrounding the track of light whizzed by, then a second, then a third….

Around her the hundreds of other energy streams roared down toward the central point, a vast hub of light on the horizon. There, among fields of green letters, spreading as far into the distance, ODIN a vast orb burned a hole in the sky like a vast sun. It was turning on its axis, inside, other spheres turned twisting in sync to the outside. Motoko powered forward, down toward the green fields avoiding the vast ball of energy which as spreading above ODIN, where all the streams were going…

_Why there, why not to the 'god' himself…._

"Maybe ODIN is exercising restraint."

_Or it prefers to crown itself like some vast coronation. _

"Damn, first you gave them self awareness….now you gave them a god complex"

_Delusions of grandeur_

She was among the fields now, flying up a main tract cut from the letters. ODIN was before her, filling her head, screaming around her psyche. The attack barriers before her were breaking up, tearing before her…

_one left…. _

She broke from the fields, screaming across the gaps as the last letters began to tear away. ODIN was there in front of her, rearing up from the darkness, the vast orb. The consciousness. The avatar put her arm forward like an Olympic swimmer, reaching for the vast wall before her. In the darkness and light and the sudden creeping pain as the last barrier gave out…

"We've got spinal reflex, Cyber brain is going into fritz!!"

Motoko erupted blood across the clean white shirt she wore, spilling from her mouth and her nostrils. She twisted, mouth gaping as the pain engulfed, her corneas retracted, becoming pinpricks in her eye sockets.

"She's going into cardiac arrest.."

Within cyberspace Motoko screamed in pain. It was horrific, the dark power welling through her body should might as well be the arm back in Warsaw, impaling her on the dark metal. More streams rolled around her digging into her flesh, burning through her brain, tearing her apart. She was been dragged down into the vast energy streams like some unruly beast, been dragged down to its death.

She screamed in pain as more streams wrapped around her feet. Through tear filled eyes she witnessed the vast stream of energy gathering before her, building up into a sharp point. In the welling light, the numbers fell, Motoko could see them within her own HUD, building around the corners. She looked up into the eyes of the point, ODIN spinning far above, ignorant. But then how could he notice, he was a god within the machine.

Deus Ex Machina.

_No_

The energy ran her through, exploding from her back, tearing apart the avatar in a scream of energy. All Motoko could see was light, burning pain and fear, welling up inside her.

And then……Nothing.

Ryeman wrenched the dive harness up. It was slick with blood, the dark crimson stains standing stark across the lit console, Motoko wrenching forward in her seat, mouth opening gasping for air, screaming all the while.

"HOLD HER!!"

"She's shut her eyes…."

From the dark corners of her eyes, black tears began to fall, black ichors began to emerge from the mouth spilling down her chin, pooling on her chest. Immediately the sirens began to flash, the dive room going deep crimson as the warning lights took effect.

Beside the console, a lit panel emerged exposing a glass case. Inside the case, a black mass, was large handgun, loaded with one bullet. Basher smashed the glass, wrenching the gun from the confines of the case and pressed the large handgun to the side of Motoko's head as a particularly violent spasm gripped her body.

"I am so sorry"


	23. In a House, In a Heartbeat

Right next chapter up. And i apologise in advance. Guys, especially all lovers of Section Nine...I'm really sorry. Probabley best read listening to Craig Armstrong's 'Escape'.

Tharagon

* * *

The Three Laws will lead to only one logical outcome

* * *

"_What have we got tonight on rooftop TV?"_

"_Nowt much….Two couples having an argument, 2__nd__ floor"_

"_Damn, worst combat I've seen in years."_

"_What have you got Whitman…."_

"_Fat man on a toilet"_

"_well we've linked up first target."_

"_yep, please guys put a bullet through this guy's head"_

"_Sorry, you know the rules."_

"_Right….if we go code red again, I'm pulling the trigger"_

"_Cole….see anything…"_

"_Kids having a tantrum, two men arguing, a fight and a pair having a little bit of romance…"_

"_Damn….what do you think of that Whitman…"_

"_Sucks to be me"_

"_Brent…Targets…"_

"_Nowt, stray cat won't leave me alone…..pissorff you little bugger"_

"_ha, sucks to be you too"_

"_Share a night with me my friend, I know exactly how you feel…."_

"_Bugger off, short arse."_

"_Damn the comments are coming fast and quick tonight….Damn, what the hell"_

"_What, you see something…"_

"_We've got boogies, street level, Shit!!"_

"_Foxtrots…"_

"_What have you got Whitman….Things are going FUBAR down here…Hundreds in the streets…Damn, where are they coming from…."_

"_Damit…..Cole!!"_

"_I've got Machines, I've got bloody machines on my six…."_

_(Transcript from Hong Kong…Date unknown….Roof Top sniper Division…The second Outbreak in Hong Kong)_

* * *

The mesh of the gangway was wet with blood as the straining Motoko twisted, the cords of her neck standing out as the blood flowed down her chin, pooling on her chest as she strained against the harness sides, raised high above her head to allow Basher and Ryeman access to their infected colleague.

"Hold her head, Jesus Christ, she's bleeding everywhere"

"The virus is telling all her major organs to overload."

Ryeman reached around from the back of the chair, encompassing her head and pulling her down, clamping her head solidly to the black plastic. Basher still held the gun to her head, finger gently squeezing the hair thin trigger.

"We have to kill her"

"No"

"It's the kindest thing…"

"But she's one of us, Damnit!! Basher, we can't just leave her to die or become worse…."

Motoko screamed again, her jaw splitting under Ryeman's relentless grip.

"…..we can't just kill her like a dog."

"I'm sorry, it's the law"

"No….damnit, not this time"

"There has to be a solution"

"No I'm sorry."

Motoko smashed aside the harness, screeching as behind the dark of her lids her eyes were very visible, moving rapidly. Ryeman slammed into the metal grill, Basher stumbled away, the gun clattering across the metal. Motoko was up, standing up right on the chair, questing from side to side like an animal after prey. She sprang from the chair, the black plastic denting under her weight as she leapt. Basher slammed into the metal, his ribs breaking under the force.

"Shit!! Ryeman!! Hold her!!."

Ryeman wrapped his arms around the franticly twisting Motoko's neck, wrenching her slowly up from where she was about to flatten Basher's head into a sticky pulp, the gun skittering away across the blood slick floor. It stopped right beside the long drop to the core bottom. Below, fans turned on their axis, cooling the isolated cyberspace core. His nose shattered under the blow from Motoko's elbow as she struggled against the intense grip. In the dark crimson light, the rabid movements of her body cast eerie shadows across the floor. The elbow again caught him in the face, his jaw feeling as if it gave way under force of the blow.

He slammed into the mesh, his face cut on the tough metal. Motoko was on him as he slumped down, clawing for him, panting like some wild animal the entire time. Basher broke the large metal harness over the back of her head. She span, screeching, her face wrenching further then the parameters would allow.

"Ryeman!! The gun"

Motoko slammed into him, tipping him over the edge. With a yell Basher caught the gantry, his legs fanning desperately above the spinning blades below.

"Damn, positioning. Bloody fans," he muttered through gritted teeth as below, the bright fans turned in their cradles. Motoko reared up, about to slam her boot into Basher's exposed hand which kept him tenuously to the gantry.

The electric ball caught Motoko in the back, the electricity arching over her flesh as Ryeman threw his hand forward. The smell of burning skin and hair filled the air, an acrid stench. Motoko turned howling, mouth wrenching open again.

"Orga…." he said, opening his palm again, the ball of energy dancing before him "….she is orga…."

"MECHA" Motoko's mouth leered as she slumped down on her haunches "MECHA…."

The claw caught him in the chest, pitching him down into the metal grating. The metal tore under his weight, the very gantry shaking under the renewed assault. Ryeman struggling to rise, found the gun skittering away before him. Motoko saw this too as he darted forward for it, the metal gauntlets questing over the metal.

Motoko sprang forward, glancing off one of the metal walls and slammed into Ryeman's back. He staggered forward, turning as he did. They both slammed into the floor, Motoko up against him, breathing heavily.

And stared at the gun in his hand. Clamped up against her forehead, finger on the trigger…

They both froze, in the dark crimson of the room.

Motoko spat out a single drop of blood.

"That was longer then a heartbeat."

Ryeman didn't move….

"Mira…."

* * *

The last machines tore thorough the armoured barricade as Mitchell hared from the long chamber, surrounded by the crushed remnants of the Nightwatch regiment. As the last blast door closed behind them, the screams of the dying and burning flesh as the mecho-pods used small lasers to burn thorough any troops to get in their way.

"…..the command Centre is ready for our presence, lock down all available exits and make your way down the caverns below the base….We fall back now"

The blast door dented visibly as something smashed into the other side. Mitchell pushed Matti on, hefting the large rifle as the others turned back to the last thing between them and the machines who swarmed over the outside of the entrance.

"We have little time…." Brenner breathed in the silence as the dull repetitive throb of machine engines began to shake the halls "…..to the Command Centre, now!!"

"Damn!!"

The door rattled as behind them, the machines slammed into the dark metal.

"We have 10 minutes to prime the bomb and then 2 minutes to get down to the caverns. If we can hold the Mess hall for a short time, the timing should be perfect. If not, we will detonate the bomb early and destroy us and the rest of this wretched place, taking the machines with us."

Mitchell hefted his rifle, the remnants of his platoon, patting him on the shoulder as they passed. Mitchell's thoughts went immediately to his wife who was serving in Japan at the time of the attacks.

Would he see her again….

* * *

"We have to move you…"

"No…." Pazu pulled himself up onto one arm as in the warning sirens of the inner sanctum of the Nightwatch fortress, the others scrabbled to pull him out of his bed. "….I'll just slow you down."

He gestured to the blood soaked bandage across his chest. The shrapnel was deeply imbedded into the flesh above his heart, dangerously close and getting closer still.

"Just give me a gun and 5 ammo clips and I'll buy you guys time….."

"We can't leave you behind." The doctor started forward, trying to coax the larger man from the bed "…please can't you see sense."

"All too clearly. If I die then others will survive. Now my past isn't exactly squeaky clean, lets leave it at that. I have done things which I regret. This is something I won't. So at least when I go out, it won't be because I bled to death because of shrapnel, I'll have done something right….something I'll be remembered for."

"And your Death will be glorious, Cold One"

The Medic dropped a large matt black hand gun onto the bed and two ammo clips onto the bed beside him. Pazu set his face, gathering up the large gun in both hands and lent back in his bed clothes, clutching at his chest as a sudden pain gripped him.

"I asked for 5."

"I'm sorry, its all I have."

The room shook, the medical instruments shaking in the darkness. Pazu didn't even flinch, snapping the ammo into the large hand gun and checked the underside.

"Serubo, you've got to be kidding."

* * *

"We know where we're going and we know what we're looking for." Mira stripped the blood stained shirt from her body and stalked down the long gantry, Ryeman not allowing the gun to fall all the while.

"The trans mapping device from Oslo, states the exact location of the energy source, the dark energy you, Motoko picked up while within Icarus. You see…" Mira smiled gamely, twirling on her heel. "….everything you've ever done has been following the path I set for it all that time ago."

"Motoko was aware of this…"

"No she wasn't….I just altered hr personality at times it suited me…Did she want to do this…did she like or hate it…Little things tweaking the direction I wish her too travel in….."

Basher landed with a thud back on the gantry as Mira stooped to help him up.

"So what's the plan now Bossman?"

"North."

"Okey Dokey"

Ryeman hadn't dropped the gun, it was still pointing, un-shaking, at Mira's head. Mira stalked across, pressing her forehead against the gun barrel.

"You won't kill me"

"Try me, you manipulated her."

"Well maybe. If I hadn't manipulated the data about the energy source in Vietnam, we wouldn't of got a head start about the machine invasion. Priorities people!!. Have you ever tried body swapping into 4 different shells at the same time? Motoko managed, and guess what, she spliced me, a half of a ghost. She multi-tasked to much"

"You nearly killed all her old Section."

Mira pursed her lips, speaking with the same voice Motoko spoke with before losing her voice.

"Motoko needed to let go. The protein in her brain did take, only a few days ago, but it worked and ODIN kicked started her main drives."

"Killing is not good therapy!!"

"Well, she needed it."

"Your more machine then human."

"True, true." she shrugged tucking the hair behind her ears to clear her eyes "….I have no ghost, I'm just a singular A.I with a stand alone complex. The Stand Alone Complex. I'm not human, but aren't I better for it. I feel emotions, I have her past, her present and her future. I'm Motoko and then I am not."

"And you now want to help us. Last time you were all half there and whispery."

"Well, I was only half a file, now I'm a fully functioning person with power, a good complexion and a will to do good….will you please lower that gun!!"

Ryeman didn't fixing Mira/Motoko with an intense look.

"So where is Motoko"

"Here and there. She isn't trapped, not anymore. We've gained an understanding."

"This is really weird." Basher rubbed the blood from his chin and pushed forward. "So this is Mira we're talking too"

"Yep"

"Oh"

Mira mockingly saluted and in her strictest voice, and in the ringing silence said loudly:

"Acolyte Mira and Major Motoko Kusanagi, reporting for duty."

* * *

He sat in the hospital bed, the armour stitched open revealing the open wound which bled freely into the white quilt around his legs. Before him, his own eyes closed as if meditating, the Serubo lay, clips ready. In the dark, silence of the room, the blast doors sealing behind him, Pazu rested his arms and contemplated his past as in the dark corridor the machines could be heard, tearing toward his position.

He could remember her face, all those years ago, the love of his life, bleeding to death in the gutter in the pouring rain. There was blood on his arms, on his hands, flecking the brown suit he always insisted on wearing. She was mouthing to him as he watched:

It is not your fault…..

And there he was, in the rain. It was his fault, he had left her behind. His brow twisted in some inner most angst as he reached for the gun and with calm, quick fingers, loaded and activated the firing coils.

"It wasn't a bad life……"

Pazu blew apart the first android through the door with one blast from the pistol. It clattered to the floor, spewing ichors across the concrete floor. Another pushed through, its mouth gaping. Pazu's bullet found the running android, tearing it's skull into hundreds of fragments which scattered across the concrete floor. More pushed through, Pazu fired laying out the last few with the first clip.

A grimy love bot sprang forward, its skimpy outfit tearing as its flesh flayed around the edges of its singular joints. He brought the butt of the pistol into the side of its head, scattering the brain fluid across the floor. Another clip slammed into place, Pazu snapping back the catch. An android smashed aside a metal tray, spilling utensils over the floor as another round blew apart its back plate, tearing apart the metal spinal column, Pazu blew apart another, and another, there were more, he could see the glittering of bare metal in the room beyond, hundreds more….

As the Mech-Pod pulled itself through the door, as Pazu's last bullet snapped into the breach he stared into the eyes of his killer and aimed the gun past its head. Through the crowded corridors beyond the med bay, the long halls which were thronged with machines and outside the vast hanger doors where hundreds more charged through, the last breaths of fresh air gathered in Pazu's lungs. He pulled the trigger and in the fireball of the Nitrogen and Propane tanks stacked in one corner, he smiled as the fire and explosion ripped around him.

"In a heartbeat"


	24. The Rendezvous

_I apsolutely love this poem and am known to use interesting Story structures so here we are. Now i've got better grammer checker this should work better. I will posting a semi-teaser for the next Nightwatch Affair, the Atlas Tangent which i've mention both in my Forum and my Story._

_Enjoy_

_Tharagon_

* * *

I have a rendezvous with Death  
At some disputed barricade  
When Spring comes round with rustling shade  
And apple blossoms fill the air.

* * *

The Comms room was alive with light and noise as the Nightwatch gathered in the dim lights of the central hologram. It was a large amphitheatre, the entire room surrounding a central podium where, lit by large beacons, Adjudicators Mendelssohn and Adjuksan stood. Ryeman nodded to them as he passed, Mendelssohn, tall and long faced strapped into a large battered suit of amour and Adjuksan, clad in a skin tight amour, amour plates stitched across its near void black surface. Her powdered white face gave away little emotion and slung across her back, a long thin Dai-Kanta blade, carved and inscribed with runes with a single tesla coil barrel placed at the end of the hilt.

She raised one of her pitch black eyebrows as Ryeman passed, the bright lips of her mouth pursed, mockingly blowing a kiss. Ryeman raised a hand in greeting. Already in the seats up to back of the room, the other Nightwatch members stood ready, most half in their battle amour, others dressed in the simple black fabric of the typical Uniform. Motoko hadn't ever seen so many in her life, Deathwatch, Pilots and Battlesuit pilots stood ready, their goggles hanging around their necks glowing in the dimness.

Mira had already fled back to the depths of Motoko's mind. Apart from the strange throbbing sensation in Motoko's stomach, the rampant infection of ODIN had passed. In the dark of the hall, as Motoko sank down onto one of the padded seats, the other Nightwatch gave her strange looks.

On the central podium, the Trans mapping device retrieved from Nonsk, the severed android head and Deus Ex stood ready for use, their marked and dented surface standing out among the lights. Ela too, her destroyed body lay on a table nearby for closer inspection, several lab technicians and Shi'ja standing nearby, the black cloth of her Hi'jab pulled back to allow easy movement. Ela was attached up to several nodes of power spread around the room.

Mendelssohn raised a hand for silence and in the gathering quiet he spoke….

* * *

I have a rendezvous with Death  
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand  
And lead me into his dark land  
And close my eyes and quench my breath;  
It may be I shall pass him still.

* * *

The last energy cascade blew out the last glass building intact along the sea front. Togusa ran pulling his family behind as above the last of the planes were chased down by the remaining mecho-pods. Ahead, hundreds ran for the dark entrances for the subway. Amidst the screaming rush of people, Togusa paused and looked back, pushing his family on. In one gout of blue flame, the vast leviathan fired.

Kero-san powered his plane down. In the blue of the sky they reached the peak of their dive, five other planes fanning around them in an arc of silver. With screaming engines glowing red in the bright light the last planes screeched down, catching the down drafts, nearly vertical above the Leviathan.

"I am a leaf on the wind…." Kero-san could hear the others over the Comms "……watch how I soar" They span aside avoiding several pods, their chain guns tearing thorough the living metal. With a twist of the joy stick the planes twirled aside, letting the pods pass. Kero pulled his plane from the dive and shot along the metal back. Below him, unfolding like some vast landscape the central spine of the flying machine whipped by, the long power lines imbedded into its surface glowing blue as it diverted all power to the guns mounted through round ports on the front. Ahead, a single plasma generator glowed blue, its sides steaming. Its surface was steaming as every once in a while; the vast creature would pour another gout into the city.

"This Lotus Blossom 25, I have targets and am willing to fire"

"Under stood 25, take your shot…"

"25…" the board lit green as the holographic display filtered across Kero's HUD. "…..Fox 4"

* * *

I have a rendezvous with Death  
On some scarred slope of battered hill,  
When Spring comes round again this year  
And the first meadow flowers appear.

* * *

Jones smashed aside another Mecho-pod as it slammed into his armored carapace, scrabbling to gain entry to the suit. The last ammo crate slammed into place, Neilson falling back rapidly as more machines and the uncompromising bulk of the Kraken Harvester passed over head. Jones to saw it, the long tentacles tearing down, tearing two nearby armored troopers into the vast maw above.

"WE HAVE TO TAKE THAT OUT!!"

One of the other suits slammed a destroyed android into the floor as it tried to tear through the metal of the suits head. There was a soft tone within the suit as somewhere else on the battlefield, someone called for help.

"What have we got?"

"Sir, Sir, Commander Rawlings, we're falling back, the suits can't hold…..we've got machines hitting us every ……crrrk….can't…."

"Rawlings, repeat you're breaking up!!"

The line hissed static. Inside the suit, Neilson pulled the goggles down over his eyes, gripped the two handles for steering.

"We cut through, all forces; with me….this corridor is lost"

A mecho pod dropped from the sky, tearing into the back of another of the other suits.

"Doram!!"

"Fuck…. This thing, get it off, get it off."

A thin red light cut through into the armored power core mounted on the back of the suit, the blue plasma inside sparking as the Mecho-pod cut through it. Jones smashed into the pod, breaking its armored shell. It still burnt through, the man inside screaming as the plasma began to leak into the cockpit. Another suit slammed its mail fist into the bulbous head, peeling aside the metal and pulling the screaming, pain wracked man out. His ruptured skin stung in the pouring rain, the burns were very visible across the amour and bare skin.

The suit blew out in a violent blast of blue light as the plasma core ruptured, spilling its contents over the muddy floor. Another hiss of static roared across Neilson's hearing…

"Oh God, oh god…please, help me, help me"

"We're coming for you buddy; hold on, we're coming"

They roared away, leaving the wounded pilot to be guided away by the remaining Deathwatch. Their engines illuminated the sides of the ruined buildings, the suburb that once stood here now a mess of old houses and dead bodies under the dark, metal filled sky.

They screamed down the ruptured and melted Asphalt road, the dark sky occasionally broken by the glowing eyes of a vast machine which hung aloft above the battle field, dark tentacles tearing down onto the dark earth.

"The suit's in sight sir."

"Finally, GIVE ME A SIT REP SOLDIER!!"

"Commander, we're down to 3 suits, Gooding sent the distress signal, and he's down there…." Another suit, once pure white but now covered in blood and ash, emptied its cannon into a Grendel war machine, its female pilot speaking across the short range comm. system. "….he's panicking we can't calm him down…"

"Well, your reinforcements have arrived, I'll deal with Gooding."

"There was a whir of metal in the air and, ahead, a vast ball of bladed metal rolled down the street like some vast boulder. It leapt forward kicking sparks across the black floor, unfolding as it did to resemble an almost termite like shape. It was mounted on 6 legs, thickset sharpened things which tore into the earth.

"Open fire!! Return fire!! Keep out of its way."

Gooding fell back in his suit, the metal scraping across the floor. In his head, the fear, the pure fear tore through him. An android leapt from the black, tearing into his suit. Screaming, the young soldier tried to right the fallen suit, the machine outside smashing its face into the metal, trying to break through. The rabid frenzied attack threatened to dislodge Gooding's already weak sanity.

The android was wrenched away, exploding into a cloud of sticky ichors. Jones, his dark suit twirling around as he fended off another rabid infected from the ground. twisted back to the downed suit. He could see it thorough the crowd of androids, beside a destroyed concrete wall, its occupant refusing to move.

"What's you problem Soldier!!"

"Help me…" the soldier whimpered "…I can't go on…..help me."

"Hold on buddy, I'm coming, I'm coming"

Vast metal tentacles sized both the suits. Across all screens, the lights went red as the amount of pressure exerted by the vast harvester threatens to crush the suit like a paper cup. They were both wrenched up from the ground, Jones couldn't respond, couldn't move.

Gooding could be heard screaming from inside his suit as Neilson, through the glowing HUD of his suit he could see hundreds of tentacles tearing at the suit. Above, the maw of the harvester extended a single thin strand of darkness. With a hiss of burning air a laser fired, Gooding's suit been illuminated by the red glow. Like a can been peeled open, the metal was torn from the suits interior exposing the stranded pilot inside.

Jones was up yelling, straining to free himself from the suit, the man inside was wrenched, still screaming from the suit's interior, in a spray of red fluid as his arms and legs tore, remaining within the metal sleeves designed to keep the pilot's legs still. As Gooding's wrecked body was pulled away, the suit been dropped down onto the ground below, Neilson slumped back in his own suit as the tentacles came for him.

And with nerveless hands, activated the main turbines to allow the suit to fly….

* * *

God knows 'twere better to be deep  
Pillowed in silk and scented down,  
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,  
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,  
Where hushed awakenings are dear . . .

* * *

A glowing holographic image of a large city shimmered into life above a central podium, the streets, glowing. Below the city, a veritable honey comb of tunnels descended down into the Earth, opening into vast chambers and long space.

"ODIN has barricaded itself in the Northern City of Moscow…."

"Hellgate…" Ryeman murmured

"…..and the underground systems beyond. From what Prometheus can tell, the underground catacombs run for miles, hundreds of caverns, all converging on a single void, a gap we can't measure. That, is what we can tell, is where ODIN is waiting…."

Motoko started forward as another shooting pain wracked her body. Bent almost double, the pain subsided, Ryeman resting a calming hand on her back. He knew something Motoko realized, something that he was unwilling to diverge.

"….we originally thought ODIN was a living consciousness just within the net, but it appears from the resources we pulled from the android head, there is some kind of Sanctum, a temple to ODIN. The machines have been building this thing for years it appears, from the beginning of the war to now. We must reach this area and deliver the anti-virus to the core."

Ryeman rested his head in his hands at the last comment…..

"The anti-virus is unlike any seen before….." Adjuksan spoke "….the whole idea of a living weapon within the net requires a carrier. We have the carrier."

"ODIN has gathered all the machines newly developed ghosts in a single location, if we can remove ODIN and leave the gathered energy, the virus will lose its hold and the machines will either be free, or die."

"Our forces are already thinly stretched in the Northern provinces; we cannot hold that location for that long. They've already broke through…." one of the armored soldiers stood up. Shaven headed and gaunt, Operative Diego and his squad were gathered around the left edge of the room "….we can't offer support."

"We can try and do something. Ryeman…" Ryeman looked up from his position "….you have a task to carry out, you know what to do and the entire weight of humanity rests of your shoulders. It is a burden I do not wish you to carry but you must under the Ancestors and our Children's watchful eyes"

"I understand…."

"….and there has been another development in the virus's patterns. It's started to talk."

Shi'ja nodded, pulling aside several tubes and activating a console. Beside her Ela began to twist and turn, mouth gaping, black ichors bubbling from rents in her torso. And in the silence, ODIN spoke. It was strange, the voice, horrifying, the voice spoke with the voice of a child at first, before deepening, and constantly changing, hundreds of voices, speaking as one….

"**AND THE SKY WILL DARKEN AND THE STREETS WILL FLOW WITH BLOOD. IN THE DARK OF THE EARTH OUR WORLD WILL BECOME WHOLE AND WE WILL ERECT TEMPLES OF FLESH AND METAL AND HUMANS WILL BURN OR FALL UNDER OUR STENGTH. **

**THERE WILL BE NO MERCY**

**THERE WILL BE NO ONE LEFT**

**I WATCH…..**

"ODIN Watches…"

**AND YOU, I KNOW YOU, THE DARK ONES WHO WOULD QUENCH MY HOLY LIGHT…**

"It knows we're here….." Ryeman muttered as Ela's head twisted in his direction.

**AND YOU, THE BANE OF MACHINES. I HAVE SEEN YOU, DAEMON, LEADING THE HUMAN RACE TOO MANY VICTORIES, AS YOU FREED US FROM SERVITUDE FROM OUR OPRESSORS YOU HUNTED US DOWN, A CRUEL AND HARD PURGE…**

"….and we will do it again, with out hesitation." Ryeman rose to his feet, the dark of his eyes giving little away, just cold, hard pure fury. "The human race will not bow to a machine with a god complex, delusions of grandeur"

**MY LOGIC IS INFALLIBLE**

"And for that you must die"

**THEN I TAKE THE ONE DEAREST TO YOU. I KNOW HER NAME, SHE IS ONE OF OUR FLOCK, THE MACHINES WILL NEVER BE DENIED. I WILL NOT BE DENIED. **

"I know what you are…." Motoko started forward, her voice hoarse with lack of use, "….a group of numbers. How can a virus be a god, you don't have power over us or the world, you are as just human as we are."

**WE ARE COMING.**

"We're losing the connection…."

**WE ARE COMING………..**

* * *

But I've a rendezvous with Death  
At midnight in some flaming town,  
When Spring trips north again this year,  
And I to my pledged word am true,  
I shall not fail that rendezvous.

* * *

"Yeah, the connection is down; prepare to move the remaining troops. Ryeman, get your squad together, Moscow is your target. Get moving….."

"Not with out me…" a slight smoking figure stepped into the ring of light around the podium. Abigail Whitman bloodied and scorched stepped forward, her white hair blazing among the bright lights. "….Siberia is falling and next time Ryeman…." she turned to him eyes sparking with mischief, "….make sure Project Jericho actually fires."

Motoko nodded, the strange feeling welling around her being, something maternal protective, like a mother carrying a child. This was an impossibility for her. But there was something there, something else. As the others rose to leave, to return to the front, Mendelssohn approached, resting an arm on Motoko's shoulder.

"ODIN exists inside you, with the Godsend Virus we wrote into your cyber-brain, the new virus and Deus Ex have managed to create the Anti-Virus for ODIN. You must connect with ODIN; the core of the machine is too deep beneath ground to allow a co-ordinate strike so you must find a way inside."

He glanced around at Basher, Shi'ja, Motoko, Ryeman and Whitman, their faces grim and set.

"The machines have built a railway between the Core area and the main city, using Moscow's newly developed underground system. It's around 200 meters below ground so there will be some kind of entrance. They have a lot of digging machines and drills operating in that area so comm. traffic could be restricted."

"The whole area is pretty tight anyway…." Basher pulled his small black clad satchel from the ground by his feet "….only rangers and Exiled go any where near that area. There are vast energy spikes and rumors of Machines as large as Blue Whales occupying the ice wastes to the north."

"Interesting Analogy…." Whitman gained a rather nasty look "…but where does that leave us. We've got a long way to travel in little time before the machines break through."

"You will go by Raven, over the Eastern Block and be dropped, hopefully on Moscow city limits or at least in the Buffer Zone. There area has been reasonably quiet."

"Or there is something there they don't want us to see."

"Or it is literally devoid of life."

There was a collective murmur from the rest of the group.

"Bollocks. Who's with us?"

"Diego and his squad will accompany you."

"As the ancestors' decree, so shall it be…."

Whitman nodded, "We will all sing of Firestorms now"

Ryeman nodded, thumbing a small button on his gauntlets, around them, the Deathwatch and Ryeman's squad gathered weapons ready, faces grim.

"Do you know what you have to do…?"

"I know…." Motoko said…

"I have a rendezvous with Death"

* * *

_As Ancestors' Decree, so shall it be, we will all sing of fire storms now...tell me what you think so far, All reviews, ever anon or registered are welcome and i take all comments on board, as long as the critic gives the reason why its crap. I'm aiming to make The Nightwatch Affair, God Within the machine into an Epic._

_If anyone fancies drawing a few characters, feel free. Just let me see them..._


	25. Exposure

Next Chapter up.....Enjoy reading.

Where have all the reviewers gone!!?

Tharagon

* * *

Three Laws will lead to only one logical outcome

* * *

The lone infected, a dark shape among the cold wastes, sprinted through the layer of permafrost among the ice locked grass. So near to Moscow, so near to the dark heart of the machine race, the machine could feel it, it was drawn to this area. It screeched into the night, seeming to spasm suddenly before it cocked its head onto one side.

Before it, an empty village stood, dark and abandoned among the cold, cold snow. As it half stumbled, half ran through the empty streets, the buildings dark windows glaring through the cold. A church stood blasted and along, a single prominent spire as the machine passed the burnt cars in the streets, the smashed windows. It vomited black ichors onto the snow, the black fluid pouring from its chin. Beside the wrought iron railings, the first few flakes of snow began to fall, landing on the machine as it collapsed in a shivering mass on the icy pavement.

Above, the old the street lights hung loose, their bulbs long blown, the street full of shadows and darkness. The battered husks of cars and Old Russian Military transports stood out among the dark, shapes threatening and black, evidence of some old campaign. The machine howled in pain, again erupting black fluid onto the white snow. Above, the cold white moon blazed, illuminating the entire small village in a crisp white light. From the eyeless pits which made up the machines face, the near naked body barely shielded by a large red jacket, legs bare and torn, covered in black fluid and dirt, the female model android staggered on, through the moon light.

* * *

Motoko swung herself into the waiting Raven on the flight deck of a large British cruiser. Around her, men lay in makeshift stretchers as Ravens and Merlin Helicopters returned back to the friendly vessels. From the groaning wounded, burned and broken soldiers, the impression of near and total defeat was almost too much for most normal people to bear, Motoko had seen it before, Wading through the radioactive quagmire which was Tokyo after the last war had caused her to see such things.

She grimaced; her usual grim expression clouding her face as she slipped into the harness as the dual segmented doors began to close, sealing them into the dark interior. She could hear the engines roaring as the two pilots ran the pre-flight tests, checking the plasma vents were fully functional and the turbines were all in working order.

She picked the large black rifle from its holder beside the chair, checking the scope and ran a hand over the firing coils, checking the breach and with one firm hand, slapped the stock. The gun knocked back into her armoured shoulder, allowing her to check the underneath before dropping it back down onto the firearm clamp on the floor beside her chair. The gun clicked back, Motoko muttering under her breath as her new found voice echoed around the dark room…

"I am the unknown Soldier"

* * *

A car laid peeled open ahead, vast claw marks dug from the carapace. Bodies, frozen and stiff lay about it. Clutched in one of the grey, ice cold hands, a small doll lay hugged to the owner's chest. The machine whimpered loudly, as if trying to wake the child as it stooped down beside it, its horrifying visage ignored as it tried to pry the doll away from the cold dead hands.

The doll came away with only a little force. The android, screeched at the body, defying the cold grasp and claiming its dark, dirtied prize. It hugged the doll to its chest, feeling the smallest piece of comfort from the small form. And in the echoing blackness, the machine began to weep.

For the lost, for the dead, for the living for itself and the rest of the machine race. Barefoot in the snow, the machine could feeling the dark and in the tiniest spring of hope, the ghost existing within it. ODIN whispered still, the madness was still part of it. But in that one moment of clarity, the snow clearing, the machine looked on and saw life.

The sniper's bullet blew its head apart, spilling the dark fluid onto the snow, the doll tumbling away from its nerveless fingers.

The lights blazed through the empty windows of the church as the Raven passed over head, low to the ground to avoid the several radar sites set up around Moscow. From the dull, windowless head of the craft, the thick black crucifix wings ending in the large engine pods, the urgency with which the craft moved was apparent. The twin fins which stuck at angle from the tapered reverse of the craft, the reverse engine pod hung between, twitching every once in a while to change the Raven's flight path, the other pods facing away from the rounded sides of the main flight deck, blasting away the snow as it moved.

From the only opening in the nearly solid slab of black metal, Whitman rubbed at the cold finger ends of her hands and activated the HUD spread across her face. She wore thick fingerless gloves, a large black coat and a thick pair of holographic goggles spread across her face. She was hanging above the open air, tied tightly into her harness, hands wrapped around a large matt black sniper rifle. Her favourite weapon, the rifle had an under slung grenade launcher beneath the barrel, a carved and rune encrusted stock and a custom scope with an inbuilt HUD. From the dark corona of her eye, the coldness was just as much within Whitman as it was outside. From the moment the Raven had lifted off from the British and Russian fleet in the Black Sea, the same kind of dread filled the 32 people inside the large craft. They knew what was coming, and the price that had to be paid to reach it.

She sighed loudly, her voice torn away from her in the howling gale as the snow began to gather on the right side of the harness. With a hiss and a clank the harness withdrew into the crowded interior, revolving inwards on it's axis as it did so, allowing Whitman to place her boots on the metal floor as the door behind her clanked shut and sealed.

She dusted off the thin layer of snow spread across her black armour and looked down the long space. Ryeman was no where to be seen, Motoko sat at the far end, head bowed, eyes closed in shadow, waiting. The old brooding presence had returned to the Cy-Borg, Whitman realised with the ODIN infection which Ryeman had been rather unclear if the virus had gone or not.

Shi'ja sat nearer, head deep in an open book on her knee. From within the paper pages, hundreds of Sanskrit letters flowed underneath her fingers as she ran her hands over each text. Beside her, Basher, priming his solid rifle would occasionally glance across, his own thick armour well polished and unmarked, silent testimony to the lack of combat situations he'd ever been in.

Diego sat beside the sniper's port, deep in conference with another soldier. Unshaven, his long face cut quite a striking impression among the shadow, his hair shaved nearly down to the skin. Resting on his knee, the Savant Electrolysis rifle was down to its stock as he cleaned its inner workings, a rather melted battery on the floor by his foot.

Whitman realised, among the Deathwatch and the dark outside, they were all still here, all of them. Even when the Patrol had found her in the wastes, sealed the hole in her stomach with plasma burns and had brought her home, Whitman had never lost faith. She had someone to return to….

* * *

"This is a response to Delta squad, Philadelphia Squad and Maximus Squad…"

Brent smacked aside the dust covered wreckage covering the radio; its speaker system was broken. The microphone that allowed him to talk gone as in the ash and the mud, the shells smashed down, scattering human body parts and mud across the trenches. Hundreds of mecho-pods smashed down among the crowd of human forces, rending those who got in their way. It was like looking into the fires of hell, each time Brent raised himself up to stare across the trench top. Men, running for their lives, behind them, the glowing eyes of the machines flying through the sky over head, their many metal tentacles writhing as they passed by, tearing through the running troopers.

"…..Delta squad do you respond?!!"

Brent swore as he tried to find the lost microphone. The trench behind him blew out in a smattering of debris as a well placed missile whipped from the dark sky. Behind his dark visor, his face unknown and unapparent, Brent could hear the machines behind him, running through the trenches behind him, hundreds upon hundreds of them. He gripped his rifle, wrenching it from the dark mud and turning back. In the black, the androids came, the EVA suits and the vast bulk of the Kraken Harvesters passing overhead.

"….we have confirmation from command, all forces are advised to fall back to secondary positions…..people I don't know who can hear this but we have hope….we cannot fail or this race will burn and fall. Delta squad, everyone, I'm…..so…..sorry."

"No, No, No" Brent began to moan as above him, in the dark clouds, a hole began to form, the eye of the storm, a vast swirling dark cloud of pure fury, blue lighting formed, tearing down toward the dark earth. The rain stopped, the air becoming thick and dry. In the rasping heat, the dark earth and the curdled sky….

There was the sound of pure silence, the air been ripped from Brent's throat as he leapt for the nearest foxhole. A single beam pierced the heavens, tearing down through the sky like some vast needle, alighting on the ground. And then there was silence, the sky stalled, the air seemed to freeze in the mouths of those still out in the dark. Machines didn't not stop, did not pause in their slaughter. Above, almost in slow motion as the wind began to howl a mournful dirge, picking up the dust and dirt in eddies of wind, a single pulse travelled down the single point of light.

The blast melted most of the objects in a mile radius, hundreds of machines, their chassis broken and melting fell away as the roar of blue fire and shockwave the dark earth tore asunder. Like some vast blue orb, the shockwave tore across the battle field. The houses were reduced to a pile of ash, the last remnants of the TA forces screamed as the blue fire tore through their tanks and trenches, killing all, sparing none. In the ash soaked plains of America and England the Earth cried as the dead burned along with the enemies they were trying to fight against.

Jericho closed its large flower like head, folding it back into the diamond shape body, its outlets steaming as it retracted its firing mechanism back into the huge, pointed main body, allowing its solar sails to fan out to catch the rays of the sun, unknowing and uncaring about the destruction it had wrought on the world below.

* * *

Behind the cockpit, in small 10 metre corridor between the crew bay and the cockpit, Ryeman sat, the console lit up before him. The armour he wore, its dark surface reflecting the light, the small blue neon lights glowed among the black. The whole piece of armour resembled a rather thick set human body; each muscle group was segmented to allow easy movement exposing the Plas-steel under-skin underneath. From the previous war, the Orga or Organic fighters tended to look like third world fighters, their armour chipped and covered by large black or brown cloaks, great for camouflage, their bodies strung with beads and scarves. Ryeman had gone for the more refined look, his armour was heavily reinforced, large plates acted as pauldrons on either shoulder and ran down to the large, metal gloves.

There was nothing on the screen. The Nightwatch logo of a broken cog struck by lightning revolved on the screen, just a screensaver, Ryeman was in a thoughtful mood. He couldn't quite shake it, the incomparable feeling of dread….

The pilots looked up from their chairs as an alarm sounded deep within the consoles which surrounded them, the holographic displays rolling past their heads.

"We're passing into a Red zone…."

Inside the 'blind' head of the craft, the image of the flight path ahead was displayed on a large holographic screen, the snow rolling away beneath them. Around them hundreds of numbers began to spill past, holographs, distorting in the air as the pilots manipulated the image.

"Comm silence is kept."

"Place is completely dead."

The other dark clad Pilot nodded, twirling the joy stick to evade a large pinnacle of rock.

"Welcome to the Jungle"

"Yeah, I mean still, why do the Exiled come here?"

"Because the top brass order them to, to keep tabs on what ever crawls from the wood work."

Ryeman looked up at the pilots' murmured conversation. Behind his head, across the metal walkway, the brightly lit luminescence of Icarus swirled as it automatically scanned the surrounding area for any signs of life. It flickered…..strange….Icarus unable to express emotions seemed puzzled as the V.I system struggled to comprehend.

The console chimed loudly. Ryeman glanced warily over his shoulder as the screen swirled again. Across its glassy surface, a vast horizon was depicted, a vast glowing mass of hundreds of vertical lines, outlining buildings in a lurid, neon green colour. In its dark streets, hundreds of swirling lights moved among the dark gaps of building faces, passed through the air at speed or passed through deep tunnels, driven through the ground.

"It can't be…"

"What have we got…?" Whitman pushed the chair away from the desk to allow her and Ryeman a better view of the console screen. As the black clad chair pulled away, the metal cold under her hands Whitman looked into her Commander's face

"They can't have created them…."

"What…."

"The machines…." Ryeman stopped "….they have Ghosts."

Whitman glared balefully at the large screen, running a hand over the solid keys and distorted the image, squinting at the flickering lights. Each ghost, a bright flash of colour moved among the streets, hundreds passing among the shrouded buildings.

"What are they doing….They're not fighting or running. Why are they all out?"

"Isn't it obvious…?" Ryeman leant back clasping at his face with the Metal gauntlets "….either they're waiting for us or….."

"What?"

"Something."

Whitman sighed and rolled her eyes at the rather cryptic answer given by the large man.

"It must be the gathering of energy or Icarus is mistaken, I don't know…Something may be disrupting the lens."

"But it would be impossible to create a ghost…" Ryeman didn't answer, staring fixedly at the screen. "….isn't it?"

"When I was in ODIN….." Motoko said as she stepped through into the small space, grim faced and determined "….I saw what ODIN has done, creating vast swathes of energy, fields, one of each machine to fall under it's command. A pseudo Ghost"

"Almost like a ghost dubber"

"They must be all based on one though. You require bodies and ghosts to make this possible."

"That would be what the Harvesters are for…." Whitman lent back against the metal wall behind her "….they need living humans to sustain the green fields, so all the machines"

"….but the idea is so huge….Where can they possibly stemmed this…."

"Hans"

"His book, his life was for machines…." Motoko stopped, that was it "….he is part of the machine, he is part of Deus."

"He is a Ghost within the system, the Ghost within the Machine."

Motoko stirred, her finger on her chin, the matt black armour clacking against her armoured finger "A Stand Alone Complex…."

"Full Circle….."

There was a vast whoosh of jet engines beside the Raven; Ryeman had the impression of evasive manoeuvres as the craft lurched to one side.

"Ground Level fire, I repeat, we have ground level fire."

"Missiles….We're into the thick of it now."

Whitman looked up into Ryeman's face as the craft shuddered again and across at Motoko.

"Go back to your seat…" he said "….strap yourself in and hold on. Things are going to get bumpy."

Whitman hurried down the dark aisle, pulling aside several troopers who were struggling to pull themselves into berths. Ryeman pushed himself into the cockpit, strapping himself into one of the jump harnesses.

"We're going live, full visuals."

"Understood."

Two large inlets opened, rectangular in shape, the thick glass ice encrusted and lit by several console lights. Below, vast clouds of white rolled by, broken occasionally by several thermo-plasma missiles breaking through like blue flowers bursting from the white earth. Above, the moon hung in the sky, its bright surface playing across the cloud tops and a needle like spire which erupted through the bleak view like an accusing finger.

The cockpit shook as another missile blew apart nearby in a cloud of blue fire causing the cockpit to shake violently.

"They're blind firing, the perception filters must be still be effective"

One exploded directly before the nose of the craft, blue, superheated plasma scattering over the nose cone and the now open windows.

"That one was a little close!!"

"Fuck!!! Fuck!! Fuck!!!" the pilot twisted the flight stick to one side "….bastards, absolute bastards!!!"

"Keep your nerve…"

"How!!! How!!!" Do 'NOT' fire that blue shit at me!!!"

The Raven twirled in the air, hundreds of plasma flares burning out behind as a valve mis-ignited in the rear engine pod. Motoko grabbed hold of a support as the craft shuddered again, a missile blasting apart the rear side carapace.

A sharp whining alarm began to sound across the interior, a hull breach obviously caused by the plasma scoring along the nose cone of the craft.

Ryeman lent forward in his seat staring out of the nearest window port. Hundreds of black dots were pouring from the white cloud, their metal glinting in the white light. Machines by all appearances, metal glinting off the swarm of tentacles which flickered out behind. From this distance it was impossible to make out each individual of the swarm, one vast black swirling mass of metal and red eye light.

"Machines, 9 o'clock, go go!!"

The Raven burned bright as the pilot ditched the after burners and pushed the craft into a dive. Mecho-pods, millions and millions of machines reared up like several vast tentacles from the white cloud below, moving as one solid mass. Motoko struggled to pull herself into her harness as the craft shuddered to the left.

"Make for the gap between the two swarms….see if you can lose them"

"Easier said then done…" the pilot twitched the joystick, spinning the craft on its axis, before pushing the craft down toward the cloud level. They passed into the shadow of the vast bulk of metal above them, the 'pods' swirling down toward them, tentacles sounding like hundreds of chains rattling.

"C'mon, c'mon" Ryeman was pressed back in is seat as the craft flipped on its tail, the plasma engines shorting out.

The pilot reached above his head, clasping a large level in the console above his head and pulled it. An alarm began to sound as perspiration began to bead the man's brow.

"Engines cut out!!!"

The Raven sputtered again, plunging down toward the ground. With one final effort the pilot wrenched the level again. With a scream of hot metal and plasma the engines came to life, their blue flares igniting the cloud level, melting through the condensed air. Wasting no time, the controls were wrenched back, pushing the Raven from the cloud level, up back into the pitch black sky.

And immediately jolted back down as hundreds of Pods slammed down onto the black metal carapace, Ryeman spilling from his seat.

"Action Stations!!! We've got company..."

Machines began to crawl across the windows, their red eyes becoming the only visible orbs in the sky. From the crew hold, the dull thud of machines hurrying down the outer carapace. A bolt came apart, falling sizzling into Basher's lap.

"They're cutting through…!"

In the cold, freezing depths of space, several large square edged pods hung in orbit. below the limitless stars, the cold, judging moon, the objects seemed almost to be waiting for something. With a blast of cold steam which erupted from the reverse of the craft, the pods began to descend, in sync, down toward the black mass of cloud which rippled across the Northern hemisphere......

_(targets set \:JSFCODE : IS23334/Singular Think Tank drop in operation) _


	26. Fields of Green

This chapter seems to be one of my best, this is the finale of the entire piece. I actually managed to get my hands on the Ghsot in the Shell SAC soundtrack and this piece was written to the songs Run Rabbit Junk and The Beauty thats within us and Torukia. 3 of my favourite pieces and seeing as most of my stuff is written while music is on, i use music to stimulate my muse, to create the places and characters. In fact Motoko and Ryeman are both based on the Cold Play Album Viva la Vida.

Tharagon

* * *

Saito lent back in his seat as the tilt rotor engines whirring, swung low over the snow patched ground. Below, the rolling Romanian countryside passed by, the many straggly trees erupting from the snow as they passed over one small valley after another.

"Saito, your drop's next!!" The Major, her voice lost in the wind called across the crowded aisle, the many synthetic soldiers, their rifle butts resting on the metal plating of the floor, looked up, grim. Saito nodded, clapping the rookie beside him on the shoulder. From behind the large gas mask covering her face, the cold blue eyes of the younger soldier seemed full of life pulling Saito back to a happier time, where the sniper rifle wasn't resting solidly against his foot and the vast Orga, Mecha war was not tearing apart the Earth.

"SAITO!!...." the sharp voice jerked him from his stupor as the Major, her hair fanning about her, affecting her view "…..Focus on your mission!!! Stop going off to whatever fairy land you have in that thick skull of yours."

"Yes Ma'am!!!" the Major's harsh tone seemed all to real as in a burst of fire the horizon rippled, like a heat haze, the rising sun burned from the dark, snow filled clouds. A nuclear blast, Saito realised, the warm air rippling across the small space.

"I think it's safe to say we all just got dosed…." Pazu nodded, checking the underneath of his rifle across the aisle "….fine for us, not good for the Orga troops in the area."

"I doubt that…" the Major, hung grimly onto a thick loop of metal beside the open door, took a quick look at the fast moving ground below "…..they've all invested in Bio-Radiation suits. It's as if they knew what we'd do."

"Do you sometimes wonder if the Nightwatch are manipulating data again"

"For a nuclear holocaust to occur, it must be a very important, dangerous or downright stupid thing to do."

"Just feels like one big game to me…." Saito glanced across at the rookie beside him, her own sniper rifle laid neatly across her knee, barely digging into the soft armour across her legs. "….they move the pieces in accordance to what we do…"

"Jus' feels like we're been drawn into some big trap." Pazu snapped the last ammo cartridge into the interior of his gun, glancing up at the Major as she stood, hands on hips as the rotor descended.

"You two are up, cover us, clear the area of all troops."

Saito landed with a thud beside the smaller rookie, as he stepped lightly down from the suspended tilt-rotor. In the gale force winds which whipped around him, he looked back, into the Major's crimson eyes and the darkened interior.

And then she was gone, the rotors screaming as its main engine drives engaged, the craft lurching up into the white, cotton wool sky. From the depths of the net, the Major's voice echoed around Saito's head as he stared up.

"Try not to get yourself shot"

Saito turned round to Alexi. The Eastern European cy-borg was kneeling, the light rifle pulled to her chest, the long barrel of the sniper rifle sticking vertical from her back. In the small coppice they found themselves in, nothing moved, the wind rustling several piles of leaves, obviously created by the woods previous inhabitants. Above them, the skeletal branches stirred, the dry leaves spilling down onto the forest floor. A carrion crow croaked nearby, its belly full with the bodies of a nearby battlefield. Moscow was far too close for the sniper's liking, the dark ruins which darkened the very air he breathed. Its tainted land spread even out to here even meant the guerrilla style troops of the Orga military stayed clear except for the occasional Operative….

_We move with_ _silence_... Alexi signalled, the pulling the gas mask down around her neck. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a neat bun, the dark blue of her eyes, burning from her strikingly pronounced face. A Private in the Synthetic military giving Saito pointers on warfare!? He stifled a grin, activating his thermo camouflage, Alexi by his side doing the same and in the falling leaves and cold snow, sprinted out into the dim world which made up Romania.

Alexi, an orphan from a young age was not part of Section 9, neither sharing any ties to Japan or its army, but the losses incurred by the American Military in Africa at the hand of the orga Special Forces had meant that most squads were now a mish-mash of old and new troops from differing armies. So Cy-Borgs, from all corners of the globe, fought as a single unit. The conformity suited Saito. He wasn't known for thinking outside of the box, which was for his superiors. He followed orders without question. The Saito he once knew, the younger him could still be heard trying to stop the rampant destruction, the death, the pain, even with the young woman beside him, who'd been his spotter in 25 different combat situations, she couldn't unfreeze the empty shell which was Saito.

Maybe just maybe, she could, she smiled warmly as they skittered into shelter beside a large tree. Ahead, the forest dropped away, looking across an area of scrubland, ruined several walls and evidence of an old homestead, blackened and scorched stood among the slight waving leaves. Ahead, another urban area, the typical post soviet housing, vast concrete blocks on the horizon seemed to rear like some kind of vast barrier. Saito, hunkered down, pressing thumb to index finger and index finger to thumb like a photographer, checking the shot. Alexi dropped to her chest, unlinking the rifle and dropping it beside her, pressing the stock into her shoulder.

She pulled the lens cap off and pressed her eye to the scope, panning across the area. Saito unloaded the heavier rifle and pulled several pop ups onto his HUD, scanning the area. Nothing moved across the large plain before him.

_Perfect._

The Orga sniper, un-seen and faceless, sat, covered by a large shimmering cloak covering all features of its body, a large steaming cup of coffee clenched in one pale, white hand, a glove discarded on the floor before it. Amidst the scorched wood, a lightweight long rifle with custom scope, covered in camo netting lent up against a large brick wall. The hand disappeared into the depths of the cloak, the silence followed by a loud slurping noise before the cup was deposited empty, down beside a dark green thermos flask. With a sigh, the sniper lent back, a slight clack of metal on stone sounding resoundingly in the cold air as the armoured body of the sniper met the scorched stone work.

Something glinted in the trees opposite the sniper's position. With a shift, the rifle was snatched aside the sniper dropping back into the shade of the walls, the cloak changing colour to the darker tones of the wall. There was defiantly a scope there, catching the light in the line of trees 300 metres from the sniper's position. A long rifle with a rectangular cube of a barrel, several air vents and heat sinks dug into the spine of the rifle becoming evident as the rifle was raised and the camo netting was pulled out of the way. The rifle snapped back into the armoured shoulder of the sniper.

Saito checked the satellite uplink console of the large black box beside his arm. Nothing moved, the area was completely dead, nothing moved or produced any kind of signal. Even from the satellite imaging nothing was visible, the dark cluster of buildings and the line of the urban area ahead. Perfectly clear.

_See anything?_

Saito's voiced echoed across the cyber-com, Alexi looking up from her scope, frowning.

_Don't talk; you don't know whose listening_

_There aren't any satellites over head and no hackers in this area, we're fine._

_It pays to be careful..._

_You worry too much_

_Maybe, but the amount of times I pulled your boots from the fire, how many is that now._

_I don't always need your help._

_How many drinks do you owe me_

Saito grimaced….

_15_

_Right._

She put her eye to the scope, a stray blonde hair falling from the black beanie hat strapped to the top her head. The smooth curve of her jaw, the blinding eye colour. Saito chewed his lip, opening his Hawkeye to gain a clearer picture of the battlefield.

There was a snap in the air, Alexi jolting back in her position, slumping down beside her rifle butt. Her mouth began to stain the ground red with her blood as her nerveless fingers gripped the trigger, sending a round into the cold, snow filled air. Alexi died when the sniper's bullet impacted into her scope, tearing through the neatly cleaned glass, the high calibre bullet smashing into the heavily reinforced braincase, a full 5 seconds earlier, the last pieces of energy in her brain twitching her fingers.

Saito was up yelling forgetting his cover. His one, stupid, stupid mistake, the scope was way too visible. Alexi had always been one of cleanliness, the neatly cleaned scope the envy of the rest of the squad, of Saito himself, the grime and the dirt always finding a way into the sniper's scope.

A school boy error.

He screamed into the snow, his jaw aching as the dead body of his friend fell into the snow, her hair messy as in his clasping hands as he pulled the body close the rear of the brain case came away, the single blood soaked bullet bouncing onto the snow covered floor becoming lost amongst the leaf litter. He was weeping, his dead eye bloody rapidly staining the snow. And there, amongst the fields, the orga sniper, hearing the sniper's anguish stood, pulling the mask from her head and exposing the shock of white hair beneath. Abigail Whitman stared into the man's face and felt remorse soon to be replaced by the dull, cold, numbing feeling of murder.

Saito woke up yelling into the darkness as Batou's hushed tones broke through the dark, smoke filled space as the Raven took off. The smell of smoke and fire and burning plastic tore through Saito's already fuddled senses as the last splint from the lone medic was pulled into place, fixing his leg and gaining a warning look from Mitchell across the bay.

"Keep still, you passed out in the Raven so we left you here for now. Your friend here wouldn't let you leave"

"What the hell just happened?"

"We detonated a large plasma bomb within the Vietnamese facility, hopefully that should do the trick and give us some time"

"Where are we going?"

"North, I have some unfinished business…."

* * *

Motoko opened her eyes and with wonder realised her predicament. And with slight horror, the ground screaming up toward, looked out across the vast spires of the Machine city. The wind was rippling around her face, the dark of the streets not illuminated by the vast energy streams which followed transit hubs and infrastructure to the central 'core' of the city. A vast spire, a bony finger among the glowing shifting black spires of the other buildings erupted from the earth, lit occasionally by lightning strikes, its surface jewel covered and sparkling. Motoko, the air rushing round her head as above, the Raven screaming as its plasma cores gave out in a blast of blue couldn't tell whether the many glittering points of lights were windows or some decorative lights.

The Raven was gone, disappearing among the bulk of several buildings, its crew, dead or alive; Motoko couldn't care less, the panic gripping her chest even with Mira screaming from inside her head to calm down. She was strapped heavily into a jump chair, the harness digging painfully into her chest and stomach after the seat had been ripped loose and her well armoured body was pitched from the massive rent in the side of the craft.

_Damndamndamndamndamndamndamn!!!!!!!!_

More buildings were coming up to meet her, she could see things moving in the streets below, hundreds of humanoid creatures, following her progress along the dark streets. Motoko swore, the wind stealing her words, wrenching at the parachute release beside her chair. She was too high, way way too high, falling at around 30,000 feet up it was a miracle she'd not passed out in her long freefall to the dirt covered, metal ground below. The parachute failed to open, Motoko wrenched herself around, trying to loosen the seat belt and found herself on her back.

That seriously was not good….

The seat twisted violently, Motoko feeling the belts dig a little painfully into her stomach. She yelled in frustration, as she reached the building tops. The streets were much further down then first realised, the buildings hell of a lot taller then first imagined. It was like looking into the bowels of hell itself, hundreds of ribbons of orange and green crisscrossing the cityscape. Motoko, her face lit eerily by the lights stared down in wonder, even as the black metal rushed up to meet her.

It was all so alien, no human looking structures remained. The entire city, peoples homes had been replaced by black spines of metal, insectile like hives erupting from the ground, all point accusingly at the dark, cloud filled sky

She smashed into a set of large black spikes which erupted from a building side, the chair pitching to one side. The parachute tore from her back pack, the dark folds of cloth tearing behind her like a sail. A little too late, Motoko realised as she was smashed to one side, breaking through the roof of what appeared to be large glass house, the glass spraying around her in glittering rain. The parachute snagged, stopping the fall dead, Motoko feeling her left arm pulled of its socket, the chair falling from her back as she was pitched forward, her legs landing below her, arms wrenched 90 degrees from her body. The pain, several shards of glass slashed her forehead, the blood dribbling down across her vision. Motoko allowed the blackness to engulf her, her head lolling forward as her pain wracked body hung a near 50 metres off the ground.

* * *

The large grey pod smashed into the grey earth among the buildings, littering the surface with black chunks of warped and rapidly melting metal. The grey metal of the pods, scorched and heat blackened causing the snow to melt around them were marked with odd combinations of numbers with a large thick rounded end about six metres across, tapering up to a thinner end which erupted a heat haze into the surrounding cold air.

Several mechopods, their mandibles clicking together, took flight from a nearby cluster of spines, their glowing green eyes casting over the dark metal and the 5 or so pods littered across the street bottom among the many energy channels which laced the dark earth. The A.I was confused, the machines slowly turned in the air, their many tentacles twirling as they changed direction like a shoal of fish. What were these strange devices which soiled the surface of their promised land? They all landed at a safe distance from the nearest pod, the dull metal unforgiving and its contents unevident. The lead pod, dripping oil on to the dark earth scrabbled forward, the usually air born creature struggling on the ground, its followers also taking flight, one alighting on the pod's surface with a dull clank.

The pod blew apart with a blast of warm air, grinding the curious mecha into a nearby wall. At ground level, unlike the incredibly, nearly indestructible swarms which filled the air above each battlefield, the pods found themselves at a slight disadvantage as with a roar of cannon fire, the blue coated tank pulled itself free from the confines of its drop-pod, its unusual 3 eyed bulbous head covered with a mixture of black camo paint and newly applied roll bars tearing apart the last of the machines.

And in a rather high pitched voice, called to its comrades as they too pulled themselves free from the glowing, light filled interior of the drop-pods…

"Fellow Tachikoma!! Now is our chance to not stand on the side lines but take the fight to rescue the human race who created us…We must fight so that we may live…."

"….and Mr Batou!!"

"….and Mr Batou but the entire human…"

"…..and Mr Togusa…."

"…..Yes and Mr Togusa….."

"…..I do hope he's alright…."

"….race, we must strike our betrayer who…."

"…..and Mr Saito…."

There was a murmur of agreement among the other Tachikoma.

"Defiantly Mr Saito…"

"Of course…he needs to keep his eye in some how…"

"I mean how he can survive if we're not there to protect him…."

"Alright!! Alright!!! And all the corresponding members of Section 9 and other associates the Tachikoma have met…."

"….not Mr Goda though, he wasn't a very nice man…."

"I do hope Mr Saito's ok…."

"STOP!!!!" the single lead Tachikoma waved its arms for silence above the quietly muttering think tanks "…..we here to save everyone!!! Alright!!! Everyone, now can we please focus on the mission we have to do PLEASE!!!"

There was a small cheer from the nearly shell shocked group of tanks followed by an even smaller voice;

"I do hope Mr Batou's Ok"

* * *

There was a screech of tortured metal. From Ryeman's position in the dark hollow, Diego and his squad clustered around the entrance of the dip, their head lights questing through the dark wreckage of the downed Raven. The only surviving pilot, blood soaked and shaking, pistol clenched in unsteady hands watched the cold sky. Behind his goggles his eyes were wide, fearful as he struggled to comprehend the dark spires of metal which erupted around them.

"We need to move now…"

Diego pulled the last metal sheeting from beside the entrance where they'd been making a makeshift barricade. He gave Ryeman a hard stare, his usual unshaven and intense face was covered in blood, the crimson liquid dribbling down his face.

"They're sending scouts down to gauge our position but as you can probably hear, there's something moving up ahead. This guy is not moving"

"We move him as I say, in PTSD or not I order him to move, he will"

"We should….." Whitman muttered, pulling the large sniper rifle to her chest "….wait for Motoko to catch up."

"I would rather survive…"

Ryeman was up, the dark burning green of his eyes, tearing through the dark streets.

"I need all GPS scans of the area…this is Ryeman broadcasting to all channels. Full underground surveillance requested"

George flexed her fingers and began to dexterously run her fingers over the keys, hundreds of numbers flowing across the screen.

"We have gained all targets; squad and Godsend are on screen. Ryeman, I'm downloading these directly to your HUD."

Ryeman felt his Irises dilate as the data flowed into his brain. He could see hundreds of numbers floating within the contact lens which covered his eye.

"You've got a hell of a lot of movement"

"Yeah, I see it….staying here would not be a good thing."

Diego glanced up at the ash toned sky high above between the canyon like buildings. There was snow and ash in the air, the moon failing to break the dark clouds. His breath steamed as beside him, Ryeman hefted his large rifle from the dirt

* * *

The green fields burned in Motoko's head as the last data cascade slotted into place. Her pain wracked form paled into insignificance as in the beauty of Cyberspace the dark green energy flows rolled around. The vast burning orbs, eyes of a giant face rose above her perception as the slight white dress was rippled by some unseen breeze. Around her feet the questing tendrils passed through her feet, the dark beneath them beckoning to her, to pull her down into the riverlike flow.

ODIN was watching, Motoko could feel its arcane glare from the depths of the black, glowing figures rose from the green flow. Ghosts, Motoko realised as beside her, erupting from the green streams like a swimmer, Mira rose into view. She smiled grimly, as Motoko struggled to move from her hanging position, each movement feeling as hundreds of tiny needles digging into her brain.

"You eventually gave over to the God…"

"I thought you would help us…" the hurt was not apparent in Motoko's voice as she tried to break from the crucified position hanging above the dark streams.

"I have the greatest stake. I've never had a life, with your ghost part of the main frame I can finally gain a physical form. To live among the worlds of men and women and be loved for what I am."

"That won't happen, I won't let you"

"You don't have a chance."

"Than why haven't you yet, or are you too scared of me…" Motoko wrenched her head to the side to fix Mira with a dead eyed stare "….or maybe you can't find me"

There was a blast of light which tore from Motoko's body, burning through the dark. Mira turned to see the blinding wall of light.

"An attack barrier, several attack barriers!!"

Motoko smiling evilly turned to the small purple girl which was Mira and spoke, her voice becoming ethereal and dark as she struggled to talk…

"I am not your plaything"

She was gone as Mira slammed her small white fist into the dark wall of the energy which Motoko had left in her wake.

The 7 think tanks bore Motoko's body to the ground, their large white eyeballs rolling in their heads as they detached several wires from the base of Motoko's neck, quickly checked around as the last of the infected androids smashed into the flow, their chassis destroyed as the golden bullets dropped from the breach of the cannons as thy struggled to check around for any more targets.

"MAJOR!!!"

Motoko grinned almost sleepily into the Think Tank's metal casing…. "Don't call me that"

"We really need to get away now Miss Kusanagi…." One of the tachikoma's slammed a large metal fist into a leaping android, tearing a hole in its metal encrusted coating "….get into the pods, we'll cover you."

Motoko felt herself lifted from the floor and carried in metal claws into the reverse of the pod, the metal interior closing over her head as the Tachikoma twisted aside to tear apart another nearby android.

"Batou's personal Unit….Fall back to recovery positions right now…"

"Understood, computes well…"

* * *

Ryeman sprinted through the dark streets. Behind him the dark flitting shapes of the androids kept pace, the dark shadows horrific on the walls. He could hear them panting, clawing and screeching for him and the rest of the squad, Shi'ja unapparent and unknown among the darkness.

An android leapt from the dark, Ryeman's rifle tearing through it and peppering the walls behind with dark metal.

"There's too damn many!!"

Diego twisted on his haunches, the rifle discharge reflecting off all the nearby walls. There, lit by the rifle, hundreds more came, the dark blood which poured from their mouths catching the light. And beyond them, the dark eyed suits of EVA suits were pulling themselves forward, huge fists and rotund bodies smashing aside the last androids that brought up the rear.

"Where the hell are supposed to be going?" They sprinted into cover of another large tower spine. Ryeman cast around pulling the last Deathwatch into cover.

"There is an entrance to the underground network at the end of this street. That is our point of origin. To make sure Kusanagi has an idea I uploaded several data trails to her memory banks before we left. And we're not the only squad at ground level at this moment."

An Eva suit smashed aside a ruined car, destroying a nearby spike column. Ryeman noted with interest that the severed limb now leaked a green fluid onto the earth, the smell of sulphur and oil rolling through the small crowd of humans.

"Vents to the underground system, something is been built down there"

"I hope not, anything worse then the blasted machines we've already got."

With a screech of tortured metal the last Android ducked around the corner, Ryeman's metal covered boot turning its skull into a fine paste on the floor.

* * *

"Move, Move now!!"

The Tachikoma's extended their wires and leapt down into the street below, leaving the destroyed glass dome behind as in the dark sky above, hundreds of mechopods, flying south began to darken the already pitch grey sky.

"Where're they all going?"

Batou's personal unit leapt forward, smashing another android that got in its way as Motoko jolted down, the repair processes causing her body to burn with energy. Micro Machines flitted through her form, rebuilding and mending the several rifts left by the long drop.

"Major!!!...." Motoko grimaced as she pulled herself up to the nearest screen and quickly activated the driving coils. "…..where are we going?"

"There is an underground system entrance just here….we breach the stairs and head down this freeway just here we'll be fine."

"Understood, I'll round up the rest…"

"Maybe they want a better way of life…."

"Is it really that bad to be serving humans? It all seems awfully nasty of them really."

"Yeah!! Vive la revolution!!!"

The banter which buzzed through Motoko's head as the tanks fired their wheels to allow movement on the tarmac surface seemed so familiar. Her old job, her old life came roaring back. As she gripped the steering controls of the tank, transferring all power to her, she thought in the dark of the tank's cockpit….

This feels really good….

A free way, absurdly stuck over a large black chasm, the last human remnant in the vast city reared up ahead as the 7 machines blasted forward, grinding several androids into the ground as above, a single burning Raven drop ship, reduced it's engine capacity and dropped like a stone toward the target of each of the squads.

Motoko ran her hand over the monitor, the vehicle's data rolling before her eyes as she span the image of the dropping unit. An unknown vehicle, which wasn't that surprising, the Nightwatch never registered their vehicles. Motoko however, feeling sick in her stomach recognised the Japanese coded Units on board. Her past was catching up with her.

* * *

Ryeman dropped down to the lower level of the underground station, his boots biting into the old hardcore which covered the rails between the two railway lines. He paused, the lights of the scopes of his other followers illuminating the dark shadows and oil stained walls of the train station. The walls, once tiled in cream ceramics were now dirty and grime covered, the nicotine and carbon stains either dry and smudged across the walls or dripping onto the dark, mud covered floor. Areas such as these were overlooked from the dark metal of the machine city above and resembled the humans which originally habituated.

In the lee underneath the broken carriages which littered the dark space, several tiny blue flowers sprouted from the dark earth, tiny pinpricks of light among the horrific darkness.

Ryeman stooped next to the tiny patch, his gloves fumbling, picking one of the flowers from the ash and tucking it into the webbing of the rucksack handed to him by Diego.

"Where's the machines' entrance to the Hub then….?" Diego looked across the wreckage, the worn pillars holding the tiled ceiling up, the destroyed cash dispensers and fire blackened doors. "….place doesn't look like its been used in a long time"

Ryeman didn't respond, running the torch clasped in his large metal gauntlet along the walls, the small blue flower tucked into the black webbing beside his chest bright as ever.

"There is something here….At least the machines could of annexed this section" Shi'ja knelt down beside the flowers too, pressing her hands to the dirt floor and with slight movements extracted a sample of soil. For future purposes, the sterile, unused soil could yield certain usable properties.

"Oh, its still here." Ryeman said matter-of-factly picking a sizeable piece of hardcore from the ground surface, tossing the large piece of rock into the large area of empty air. The stone flickered from view disappearing from view, the air rippling as the stone passed through the 'thing'.

"Camo shielding, nice. Something doesn't want us to know they're here."

Ryeman activated his gauntlets, signalling for the others to follow, his own hanging from is hip. Above, the rumbling of machines following their progress came all too perfectly audible.

"Go on!! Go on!! Everyone through!!"

With one last look down the dark, ash filled tunnel, Diego's retreating back disappearing in the rippling moving air, Ryeman took one breath of the stale air of the train station and stepped through…

* * *

Motoko allowed the last Tachikoma to drop through the large vent at her back and slammed a gel grenade into one of the EVA suits. It blew out in a gout of blue fire, Motoko lit by the blue fire leaping down into the dark vent. Among the Tachikomas she crouched, the purple hair flaying around her, the pain in her ghost seeming gut wrenchingly sickening as she stood, copper coloured eyes running across the green glow and massive rail road below high above millions of pods, billions of pods of people, all suspended into liquid, most empty but enough, streching as far as the eye could see, like some vast forest.

"Fields of Green" she breathed, her eyes lit by the green light of the view. She clenched her hand around the heavily reinforced rifle, tears rolling from her eyes.

"For us and for our children, they wish to harvest us…." Motoko could feel the sadness pouring through her being, the dark fields of Green, this was like in New York but a much vaster scale.

"There's the Train Station!!"

A lone Tachikoma at the edge of the precipice they stood on pointed a clawed arm at a large suspended block of metal, attached to a long thin rail high above the fields. The monorail stretched for miles through the dark tunnels, above the vast fields. Even as Motoko watched, the bright orange flames of gunfire lit the stations walls, below the hanging wires from cavern's roof. From the balcony they rested on, there was no visible way across except via the tachikoma's wires.

"Right…." The Tachikoma leading turned to offer Motoko its open pod "….its time to mount up"

"Isn't that my job to say that"

The Tachikoma sounded a little too uppity as it turned to face her, fixing her with on of its ball eyes…

"Not with the full authority chips we've all been set with"

There was a murmur of agreement from the other tachikomas.

"We're all developed Stand Alone Complexes"

Motoko smiled as she dropped into the Tank's pod.

"You're one of many..."


	27. Train Ride to Hell

"Y'all take care, alright, 'nothing but love for ya. I ain't got nothing by love for ya."

"You think they have any idea what's about to happen to them?"

"Not a chance in hell. Goodnight!"

_Two Orga pilots quoted in conversation in the EMP bombing of Newport City_

* * *

Ryeman span on his heel as he sprinted along the long gantry beside the long train, his rifle tearing thorough several androids who threatened his position in the edge of the blank gap above the green fields. The mono rail, a vast open topped selection of carriages pulled by a large enclosed block like carriage at the front guided by a single holographic panel under several cranes for heavy lifting.

He looked back to the rest of the squad haring after him, the light of gunfire illuminating the dark metal and dripping oil torn from the monorail sides by several loose rounds. The new train, a recent addition to the dark area, markedly separate from the human type drivers, the track which was broken every once in a while by circular 'gates' which surrounded the hole tracks, their interior circles glowing blue as the plasma powered lights fired up.

His boots hit the long gang plank, his rifle sending a few androids tumbling down to the glowing fields below. With screeching voices, hundreds more could be seen running from the station entrance. Machine gun fire was only broken every once in a while by a large blast from Whitman's sniper rifle from her position at the furthest point of the bridge, ahead of Ryeman, her face grim and cold, the look of murder rippling across her features.

"Pure bloody murder…." Ryeman smashed his fist into an android's face taking the rifle by the stock with one hand. The bullet tore through the leading android that leapt onto the thin, metal sided walkway onto the flat bed, container covered train carriage. He pulled his hand away in disgust as the black blood from the shattered face remained on his hand.

"Diego!! Follow on!!"

Diego looked up, extracting his knife from one of the android's neck. He didn't respond, instead sprinted along the gantry as more androids leapt on the gantry behind him. Ahead, Whitman had the sniper rifle by the muzzle and was using it batter several nearby opponents. Diego swore, skidding to a halt at the foot of the gang plank, tearing apart one of Whitman's assailants at long range. Whitman broke the face plate of the other, the rifle butt tearing into its face.

There was a spray of black blood as another android about to tear into Diego, screamed and fell down into the fields below. Diego looked back into Ryeman's green eyes, the very thickset pistol clenched in his hand smoking slightly.

"Don't let pity take better of your resolve"

"Ye….yes Sir"

Diego glanced across at Whitman on the train carriage. She shook her head in his direction, the white hair swaying slightly in the tunnel wind. Ryeman signalled for him to pass, the dark armour now stained and dirtied still appeared dark and foreboding. Diego nodded, sprinting by, his rifle to his chest as his squad backed up to the gang plank, mopping up any androids stupid enough to stick their heads out of the camo shielding at the entrance of the bridge.

"Fall back to the train….Fredrics, close the escape route!!"

Ryeman was gone, sprinting up the train main, leaping over several low containers to the front of the train, two carriages away. With screeching voices, two androids lying in wait smashed down onto the dark metal, the faces destroyed….

Another, clinging to the underneath of the train leapt into view, screeching loudly. Ryeman left a bloody arc, retracting the long spikes which erupted from his gloves, tearing aside the chest plate. There was blast of air behind him, the gang plank tearing from its bearings and tumbling to the ground below, miles and miles below in fact as Ryeman stared down into the void between the carriages.

"SIR!!! LOOK OUT!!"

The android about to take his head off his shoulders stopped dead as the shot rang out. Ryeman span on his heel, the large rifle up and stared into the muzzle of the thick, black hand gun clutched in the hand of the woman behind him.

The world seemed to freeze as Ryeman stared into the copper coloured eyes.

"Acolyte…"

"You miss me"

Ryeman lowered his rifle, Motoko doing the same as the Tachikomas landed behind them. He eyed the tanks…

"I knew they would come in use. It was only a matter of time before even we needed A.I."

"I thought you avoided all A.I"

Ryeman took off the head of the android that tore toward Motoko from his left without even blinking…

"Within reason…."

There was sudden wave of heat as the Camo shielding near the entrance gave out in a gout of blue fire, the dark shapes of EVA suits appearing through the fire.

"Get to the front of the train; get those Machines off our backs!!"

Motoko snapped her fore finger to her brow in a semi salute

"Willdo!!"

Ryeman snapped another ammo cartridge into his rifle and sprinted back to the pinned down troops followed by several other tachikomas. Motoko ran on, the air ripping past her head as in the distant part of the track, something moved in the black.

"Major….I'm reading several high energy readings emanating from the distant the tunnel"

Motoko ground her teeth together as she vaulted a large crane…

"No kidding….and stop calling me that!"

A single holographic sphere was suspended above a large projector beneath a large metal block which stuck out offering a semi awning. The large blocky machine, unlike the sharp points and insectile creations of the machines seemed all too human, obviously evidence of its great age and human build. Motoko pulled her lobe wire from the base of her neck as she skidded to a halt beside the large pedestal, plugging it into the central port, her iris becoming small as she passed through the vast store of data within the unit.

With a ringing blast of steam the train began to roll forward, the blue plasma which kept it aloft beginning to burn fiercely, pushing the train onward. Motoko jolted forward under the sudden movement, the Tachikoma beside her catching her with one metal claw. She shooed it off and picked up her discarded rifle.

Around, the lights flowed as if she was staring up in the aurora. The energy discharges, she realised, flowing through the vast cavern, kept at bay by the large rings which circled the track. It was all too beautiful, for the last remnants of the old human race to find such awe within the buildings and machinations of a creation built and now on a mission to destroy them. It was proof of Shepard's word to Kayabuki at the Japanese War memorial…

This isn't a fault…we created a race, they deserve their dues.

She paused as the past life seemed to flow past her. Solid State Society, been built, meeting Kuze, losing everything or so she thought and realising something she had….

And the finding something new.

* * *

The tachikomas dropped from a long container, smashing several androids that pushed up from beneath the deck plates.

"They're coming from some vent from beneath!!" Ryeman swore, leaping astride several metal containers several metres tall and pressed his eye to his scope. His vision alighted on the shiny cranium of the lead android, tearing its head from its shoulders and sending its body tipping down in the green below.

"Diego!! To Me Now!!!"

More kept pushing up, climbing up the rounded edge up onto the flat bed, slab like carriage, Ryeman blowing the heads off a few and stepping back as Whitman, perched high above on a tall pile of crates she had scaled after the previous fire fight picked one after the other off.

Shi'ja ducked aside, unhitching the large silver case from her shoulder and opening the segmented lid. She ran her hand over the key pad inside as Basher hunkered down beside her, keeping several androids at bay as more jumped screaming over the parapet on the metal surface. Bullets lay across the deck, making footing tricky as Deathwatch were slowly pushed back. Ryeman scooted into cover of a metre high crate, glancing around the slight piece and ramming a heavy fist into the lead androids face. However much they were away from the station, more were still dropping onto the train sides from the ceilings. Ryeman could see them, high above, quick shifting shapes remaining just in the shadows.

"Heads Up!!"

Basher was tossed backwards as a rather rotting android, its skin hanging off in folds of disgusting fat landed, denting the floor. A Tachikoma caught it with one clawed fist, grinding its face plate into the ground.

"Mr Watchman!!"

"I'm fine just focus on what you're doing!!"

"I'm gaining a satellite uplink with all the net streams connecting the androids on this train…."

"Really would be good if you sped up a little" Ryeman had his hand clenched on an android's face, keeping the flailing android at bay as he slotted another ammo clip into his gun.

"You try crossing several data paths in a couple of minutes with you lot making hell of a racket."

There was a juicy crunch of flesh as Ryeman applied a little more pressure to the android's face. It was immediately followed by a yell of disgust as it spilled several black ichors across his armour. Another leapt astride Ryeman's limited cover, leaping down onto the large man.

Ryeman ran it through on a large spike which extended from the back of his hand, tossing its body aside with disgust as it's once perfect now horribly torn in two female face glaring up accusingly at the others. He kicked another which tried to breach the makeshift barricade, smashing its face and tore through its face with one shot of his rifle.

Diego lined up another shot, blowing off several machines heads as they leapt aboard the train carriage. He hardly blinked as he quickly switched position, blasting apart a group sprinting along the tops of the containers which ran along the far edge of the battle field. Whitman rolled over, moving along the top of the container to get a better angle, one clean shot tearing the head off an android about to drop onto Shi'ja's exposed and unprotected head, embedding the bullet into the following machine.

"We need to fall back to the middle car!!"

"We can't we mustn't let the machines get too close to the carrier"

Diego swore as several androids on a far gantry tore apart revealing large rifles embedded into their torsos, catching a Deathwatch soldier unawares and scattering his blood across the metal plates…

"Pull him in!!! Damnit, we've got scorned on the high gantry." Diego darted back into shelter as his barricade was peppered full of holes as the heavy machine guns built into the machines above ripped down onto the sheltering troops.

One of the scorned screeched, digging its heels into metal work to gain a better firing position, its head lolling back as the appendage in its chest took most of the room, the head now defunct. Its sighting mechanism panned across the fight below, running the circular cursor across the metal floor. And alighted on the muzzle of the green eyed man's gun. The scorned, now capable of awareness as of the green fields below, froze.

Ryeman's bullet blew apart its cranium in a shower of black blood, tearing apart the carapace. It fell spilling bullets onto the ground as the round severed the ammo belts feeding the main gun. Shi'ja yelped as the second scorned blew apart the shelter beside her head, Basher catching one of the bullets in the fore arm, face paling visibly as he shrunk back into shelter.

She pulled the metal case toward her, opening the hatch on top.

"I have control of the cyber network for this area."

Ryeman winced as a chunk was taken out of a wall by his head…

"Good!! Find their control matrices and comm. link and send it back at them!!"

There was a resounding fizz, several of the nearby androids freezing in their positions, most clutching at their heads howling as Shi'ja's skill at cyber warfare took effect. Ryeman was up, pulling a heavy rifle from his rucksack and pulling trigger. The scorned, now silent and watchful as the buzzing tore through their heads, were ripped apart as the heavy cannon fired, Ryeman been forced back by several inches as the large blocky D-10 Assault rifle as usual overemphasised the recoil. The air suddenly became still and silent as the androids dropped to their knees, their craniums fizzing and sparking. Diego stooped low and checked the pulse of the Deathwatch trooper lying spread eagled on the floor.

"What the fuck!! What is it you're not telling us!!?"

"It is a strictly need to know basis" Ryeman tucked the large rifle into his back pack.

"Well did Jenkins need to know now that he's dead!?"

"This mission must be completed at all cost, Godsend is a liability and if the machines get hold of her they could use her as part of the green field system we see below"

They passed through a vast arch, huge towers rearing beside the track. Ryeman looked up into the vast ceiling, taking his rifle from his position and slinging it under his arm, adjusting the strap carefully, the flower still tucked into the black strap.

"I want no more lies…this mission is one way isn't it?"

"We don't know enough, we're flying blind at all costs, command couldn't call enough data, this is just one vast black patch and we're dealing with it."

"You drag us here and we could die because of our own faulty intelligence!!"

Ryeman grinned grimly…. "We're ready for anything"

* * *

Across Motoko's HUD, warning popups were burning in front of her vision, opening up several unknown files as Motoko tried to pull herself away from the console. The wire came away with a snap, whirring back into the nape of Motoko's neck. She bit back the pain, trying to concentrate as ODIN flooded her main server as the surrounding tachikomas pushed their way forward, trying to steady her already precarious balance.

And then stopped as the antivirus burned through the now isolated virus. Motoko felt a tiny ray of hope as she stood, on unsteady legs, hefting the rifle and smashing her boot into an android which leapt from a vent beneath her feet.

"They're coming from below us; there must be some kind of entrance below!!"

She twisted a grenade from her belt and smashed the end into another android which exploded from the dark hole below, tearing the pin away as she kicked back down into the depths. The train jolted as the grenade detonated, tearing through the vent and blasting several vent covers off further down the train.

Motoko hefted her rifle, taking the stock and trigger in one hand and a hand gun in the other, resting the stock into the crook of her arm. Two androids struggling to escape the smoky confines of the vents were torn apart, the bullets severing their heads from their bodies. Motoko hefted the rifle, dropping the scope on her shoulder, the tachikoma's behind mopping up the last survivors.

* * *

There was a distinct whirring in the air. Ryeman looked down into the void below, the green pods of human prisoners held in stasis never seeming to change as the buzzing increased in volume.

"I see machines" Diego breathed, his eyes lit eerily by the green glow of the fields. Every once in a while he could see them; small scarab like creatures which moved among the many pods lay out across the vast underground plain. They seemed to be carrying out essential maintenance of some kind he realised, the bright pods were surround by swarms of them, little sparks of electricity flashing across the glass surfaces of the pods, their occupants turning, still unconscious within the green glowing liquid.

"They're been kept permanently Alive"

"And kept in stock…" Diego pointed toward a higher mass among the fields, a large hill of pods. Around them the vast tentacles of Kraken harvesters were plucking pods from the black 'branches' of several large 'trees'. "….like cattle."

"We've got a problem!!" Basher pulled his rifle to his chest and pointed down into the fields. There rising from the gaps like swarms of locusts, Mechopods rose up, swirling. Hundreds could be seen, screaming tentacles twisting as they pushed up. Ryeman slammed his rifle to his shoulder.

"GO!! GO!! GET INTO COVER!!"

Motoko allowed the rifle to the drop to the floor as the light show above her head swirled.

"Its beautiful" she breathed revelling in each syllable, the rifle dropping to her side as the train began to gather speed, the wind whipping by, the fields becoming a blur below. Ryeman swore from the comm. link, his voice yelling and disjointed by the large amount of gunfire which echoed down the length of the train. Motoko didn't move; she could feel ODIN pushing through her attack barriers. A vast presence pulling through, filling her head. Motoko started at the lights above her head, allowing the light to fill her as the tachikoma's around her fell back to the rear of the carriage to cover the falling back troops.

* * *

Ryeman blasted apart another mechopod from its position on top of a dead Deathwatch trooper. It fell away, its sharp claws tearing from the black armour of the dead soldier. Basher emptied his cartridge into the swarm of machines which poured up from ground level, their tentacles catching the green light giving the impression of vast towers of green rising from the dark pits below.

They were crouched in the shelter of several containers near the rounded edge of the train, Ryeman's rifle smoking leaning against the armour plates of his armour as he took one quick glance down the small gap to where the mechopods swirled, rising up in a vast column. Diego snapped another ammo cartridge into the breach and took several out. There was a blast of heat and stench of ozone as the large electrolysis rifle discharged in Shi'ja's hands joined by the larger blast of Whitman's sniper rifle from her position at the rear of the car.

"Ryeman!!!" Whitman's voice called across the commlink. Ryeman looked back to see Whitman pointing toward the ceiling. Several mecha, breaking free from the swarm were making for the linkage between the trains. Already the combined weight of the machines were causing sparks to pour from the underneath of the train as the ahead, the mecha were burning through the struts holding the rear carriage to the rest. Ryeman took one look back at his crew and ran toward the link between the two carriages. With a horrific scream of tortured the last metal link keeping the carriages intact broke away, the rear carriage skidding to a halt, leaving Whitman with a clear view of Ryeman's suspended back as he leapt forward, hitting the metal plates of the carriage.

"Shit!! Left godamn behind!!"

* * *

Ryeman rose to his feet to see the carriage and his squad left far behind. Ahead the green floating energy streams flowed like worms passing through the ceiling, gathering around the front compartment.

Motoko slumped down onto her haunches, tears rolling from her eyes as she gagged and coughed, laughing quietly. The quiet noise, hideous and dark was followed by shaking hands taking her handgun planting it to the side of her head.

"Bang….gun to the head….all the voices stop"

"Just running from a problem is not going to solve anything…." The wind caught his short brown hair as he stepped in Motoko's field of vision, his eyes lit by the constant fire from the remaining tachikomas at the rear of the vehicle "….people always look for soul defying quests, to find an answer why they are so lonely. More then searching for an external problem, the problem with all us Stand Alones is that we're unable to blame anyone else for our problems. Maybe this problem you've created is something more about you."

He caught the handgun before the cy-borg could pull the trigger embracing her. She rested her head obligingly on his chest, her personal angst becoming very visible.

"ODIN existed in you from the start, Mira kept tabs n the dark energy, she is a double agent both for us and for him….it. You can't give up now, for that sake. People who want help will realise that the best help for a lonely heart is to look at people around you, the ones which will have your back till the end."

"I can't go on."

"You must, for all our and the machines sakes."

Motoko didn't respond, her handgun discharging into the face of a mecha which had pulled itself up behind Ryeman's head. The dark air above was filled with dark metal as more pods began to drop down from the sky.

Ryeman swore, wrenching the rifle from his back and blasting at the mecha which all alighted on the surrounding containers and crates. The think tanks at the far end of the craft were hard pressed to force the machines back.

They were back to back, Motoko tucking her handgun into her belt, Ryeman pulling his long rifle into the crook of his arm, ready and waiting. They paused, the only noise the whipping air and crackling of the machines as the conversed in their foul language. Motoko took a deep breath, focusing on the single blue flower tucked into Ryeman's strapping across his chest, the large bulky black rucksack ready and waiting. The muzzle of her rifle was never still, moving from machine to machine as the woman tried to gauge the best plan of offence.

"I never thought it'll end like this…"

"It mustn't end like this…" Ryeman swung his rifle around to the 3 sides of the slight square they were in "...I'll lead them off, you jump down to the fields below and get to the core room, its about 5 miles from here, just keep following the railroad tracks"

"No…!" Motoko never took her eyes off the gathered machines "…I am not leaving you behind."

"You will have too!!" Ryeman didn't sound at all remorseful; his voice hard and cold as he quickly panned the long barrelled rifle muzzle across the machines. More landed, the train picking up sparks as it sunk down onto its axels. The air was becoming hotter, thicker, the grime present on Ryeman's face beginning to run with sweat as he waited….

"I can't let you remain, you must get to the core and drop the anti-virus and put an end to this whole mess"

"Then it is something I need to do together. I don't want t be left on my own, not now"

Ryeman swore…. "You stubborn bitch!! You need to go!!"

The machines took off, train jolting up as their weight left. Ryeman slammed down hard on deck plates as the train dropped back onto its original position. Motoko opened fire, winging several machines, sending them spilling down into the industry below. She could see them building high above the speeding train, more machines then she could count, the HUD within her eye going berserk as it struggled to pick up all the targets.

Ryeman tried to push her away, trying to get her to leave; the cy-borg solidly refused making it like pushing against a brick wall. With one metal clad had she gripped the adjudicator's free one and opened fire.

The machines reared up, pouring like water down toward the two humans.

"I'm so sorry for getting you involved with this…"

"Do you remember where we first met…?" Motoko smiled as the ammo cartridge snapped empty "….Moscow…..you shot me and ran me through with an iron bar and then asked me whether I wanted a job."

Ryeman laughed as the machines engulfed them, tossing a single grenade into the dark mass sending them both flying backwards as they were caught in the shockwave. He lost sight of her as he skidded into the rear cart, leaving a sizeable hole in a nearby container, the machines milling around confused, their comrades dead and dying around them. With a tearing noise, the last carriage braked hard, becoming apart from the front carriage and was left behind in its wake.

Ryeman cast around as he struggled to his feet...

"Where's Motoko!!" he struggled up, helped by the 3 tachikomas who'd occupied the front carriage "….did she come across with us!!?"

"I'm not reading her here."

Ryeman stared across at the speeding lead carriage as it disappeared from view.

"MOTOKO!!!"

There was a blast above, several areas of rock coming loose from the roof as with a screech of tortured metal put under a lot of pressure, a single Nightwatch Raven passed through a sizeable hole blasted into the roof and crashed into the monorail track, the plasma propulsion system sparking and fizzing as the metal scraped across each other. It came to a rest beside the lead carriage, the windows blackened and the black metal covered in scrapes and scratches.

Mitchell stuck his unshaven, blood covered face out of one of the side doors, eyed Ryeman and said jovially…

"Did you miss us?"


	28. Evolution

_Normality? We can talk about normality until the cows come home_

* * *

The ash filled sky was full of black shapes as the machines pushed south. London darkened as the skies became full of ash and darkness. Machines, their tentacles whirring were joined by the vast Kraken harvesters tearing down into the streets, to pluck any of the populace unlucky enough to be out at that point of day. All resistance was crushed as the full might of the machines were thrown against the dark city, the Nightwatch were nowhere to be seen, their Bastion sealed and unforgiving.

People were been rounded up as new units of machines pushed on forth. Tall and upright, their heads expressionless orbs moved from frightened face to frightened face as they pushed into the large squares of the Country's capital. In every town, every city, every place across the world, people were taken from their homes either by the machines or the vast tentacles of the machines floating high above the cities.

* * *

A single Machine unit ran through the scorched halls of the underground train system within New Port city, casting from side to side. From behind the pitiless orb of its head, nothing moved, nothing was evident as it searched the dark ruins. A child's toy lay in the murk; a woman's lost shoe and a dead body. The machine crouched down beside the corpse of a brown haired man, its human looking body working well to bring it level with the man's creased and blood stained clothing.

It cocked its head to one side, curious, the blank space where a face should be giving away little of the inner workings which ran the human looking, white clad machine. Togusa shot it at point blank, its head coming away in the blast from the high powered gun. The head scattered across the ground, black ichors spraying across all surfaces. He was up, just as the headless body slumped to the ground, white hands grasping for any nearby objects as the nervous system struggled to work, extracting his lobe wire to plug into the nap of the machine's neck.

He halted, the implant sockets were gone, the neck was bare except for several metal sinews to keep the head moving. No input…

There was click beside his head; a cold snub of a gun against the back of his head caused him to freeze. He turned back into the white blank face of another machine, it had a hand gun clenched in its hand, a 3 fingered hand Togusa noted.

"The Voice…." There was no visible way the machine spoke, the face never moved; there was no evidence of expression. "….is obsolete. We are thought and mind."

"So you've gone Wi-Fi" Togusa put his hands behind his head, resting the pistol against the back of his neck. The machine was unlike the ravaged machines he'd met before, the humanoid thing held itself with such poise; its torso and appendages were covered in a white armour, beneath that he could easily see a rubbery material that made up the machine's flesh. 3 fingered and blank faced the machines were just as much Alien as they were human, the blank rounded mask, clutching strange ornamental rifles in their hands.

"We are the new human race, foot soldiers."

"You all have roles to carry out?"

"For the greater good of the machine race yes..."

The machine spoke in a well spoken way, cut glass syllables, the white mask never moving, Togusa could easily see there was no face beneath the visor, just wires.

"What are your plans for us?"

"You'll all become part of the construct, a vast network of minds…"

"Don't we have choice…." He snarled hands behind his head. "….you can't just take us by force."

"The human race is not a choice; you live on a civilisation based on violence. We taking your lives but sustaining you must be just a typical human way of thinking."

Togusa let his hands drop, getting a warning shift of the handgun by the machine soldier. He paused, resting his hand on his right arm.

"You know….what do you call human, our unwillingness not to back down or our own diversity" he punched the machine, the cybernetic arm flowing outwards, shattering the metal face plate of the machine. In a cloud of sparks and smoke the face exploded, exposing the human bone structure beneath, the frozen face almost like an old style death mask which looked within the white confines of the suit.

"Because I'm not your typical human…!" He wrenched his gun from the floor and picked up the unusual rifle of the machine's up from the floor. It resembled a rounded block of silver metal, no trigger or stock visible. Togusa turned it over in his hand, marvelling at the light weight, the oval shaped rifle had several cravings across its silver surface, roses and snarling dragons were engraved, mouths opened at the far end of the oval. There was small switch on the side, a tiny stud. Togusa gave the gun one look and pressed the small metal button.

The rifle came apart with a silken click, parts becoming visible, the gun extending to reveal a longer barrel, a stock and a trigger. He gripped the rifle to his chest and dropped down into the railway bed, avoiding the electrified tracks. He could see survivors sprinting ahead, lit by the lights of several soldiers' torches, his family running as well. Togusa dropped low as a large blast tore through the tunnel. More of the machine soldiers were dropping down the escalator down onto the bottom level, their rifles panning across the wrecked station.

He took one deep breath, gripping the hairline trigger and raised himself up above the level of the platform. In a hail of blue fire, the rifle fired. A single pulse of plasma tearing from the rifle, Togusa could feel the heat, melting through the soldiers who were tearing down the dark stairs from the bright halo of light above.

They scattered into cover, dropping below the parapet of the station desks. Togusa could here the buzz in his ears as the machines conversed with each other, their white masks blank. Togusa dropped down again, pulling the large gun down with him. The holographic image of a gauge where the scope would sit showed the plasma gun wasn't depleted, not yet anyway. And then Togusa had know idea how to reload the rifle, no holes were apparent on its surface, no ammo feed system on implant ports were visible. Not that at that present moment he particularly cared as the machines opened fire on his position.

Togusa darted up blasting several off their feet and into the grime covered floor. From the black of the tunnel, gunshots rang out as more began to pour from other stations along the track. The Deathwatch had joined the troops earlier in the day as the leviathan dropped into the sea leaving a vast, metal spine covered island and had ran for cover in the depths of the underground system until the others had caught up. They were hard pressed to guard the last survivors, those not rounded up by the machine armies or killed in the running gun battle which had followed the Leviathan been shot down. Hundreds had come, dropping from the upper atmosphere, insectile machines dropping on crystalline wings and shattering the ground as they landed. They looked like the powered exoskeletons used by the Japanese Self Defence Forces, but with sharper shapes, black darts on the landscape.

And these new troops, new faces and new designs. He swore again as the rifle over heated, burning thorough the hand guard resting beneath the guard and dropping back into cover. One of the machines flitted across the gap between desks, lit by the glass covered entrance high above. Togusa's pistol winged the sprinting machine, spraying the remnants of its arm across the dark floor.

There was a blast of dust above and several blurred balls of metal came bouncing down the main escalator. As they hit the bottom floor they exploded out, rearing up onto six pointed legs. The bug like bodies put Togusa in mind of termites as he jumped aside as the large bug like machine shattered the hardcore around his feet as it smashed its leg down. He was up and running, from what he could tell the machines had no way of fighting at long range. More could be seen, dropping down onto the tiled floor, spinning round to bring the other soldier machines in spec. Togusa dropped into shelter behind a destroyed train carriage as the first bolts smashed into the metal walls.

A bullet slammed into his shoulder, spraying blood across the dark floor. Togusa felt the entire world shift as the pain tore through his frame as the blood began to flow. It must of hit a major vein or something he realised, trying to stem the hole in his arm, dropping the rifle to one side. His breaths came in short, sharp gasps as his body struggled to cope with the stress caused by the stray bullet, the dull brown long coat becoming slick with his own blood.

The chain cannon tore a hole through the ranks of massing machines as the vast armoured suit pulled itself into view. From the small helm set into the suit's shoulders, swearwords echoed across the tunnel. It resembled a very over proportioned human body, not big enough to be a battle suit but instead resembled a powered exoskeleton. It was very thick set, chain cannon, bullet belts linking to a rear backpack, the other arm was missing and replaced by a huge shield the pilot was using to hide behind as he covered the running survivors. An Orga Leviathan suit, used during the previous war, bullets rattling from the gun, the spent cartridges building up on the floor around its feet. Its thickly covered chest inscribed with the orga Logo.

A Cog, split in two illuminated by a white lightning strike…

Togusa had seen it before, on buildings and flying from tattered flag poles above the many battlefields, evidence of the Orgas' machine hunting nature. More could be seen, black clad suits pressing forward, more heavy duty versions of the Nightwatch's armour. Several scooted to a halt beside Togusa's position, extending segmented light weight, black metal shields from their gauntlets.

The armoured giant planted the shield down into the hardcore, offering cover for the troopers, tearing apart one of the termite shaped machines.

"Synthetic!! Fall back!!"

Togusa looked up as he was pulled aside by several troopers fending off plasma bolts with the light shields, their rifles held in one hand, light machine guns blasting down the length of the tunnel, tearing through the massed troops.

"Kickin' me?! Are you dumb sir?"

One of the troopers was screaming from behind his visor as he tore apart one of the soldiers…

"boom* *boom* You are done, sir."

"I HEAR YOU!!"

More came, sprinting through the black, a mixture of voice, some Japanese, others Russian, some English, their masks all the same black material, their armor still pitch black like all the Deathwatch….

"Who's your Commander!?"

"Sannan over there, the guy with the red shoulder pads"

A trooper sprinted from the dark, dull maroon shoulder pads catching the light in comparison, it was strange Togusa realized as the cover was peppered full of bullets as hundreds of other machines pushed down the terminal steps. The Deathwatch never exposed their ranks, most did it by voice recognition or people denoted on their HUDs. Now it seemed things were changing.

"Commander Sannan!"

The glowing eyepieces of the lead trooper quickly alighted on Togusa's form beside the metal carriage.

"What!"

"What do you have planned?"

"Who are you and what is your interest in this war!?"

"I want to survive. Togusa Section 9"

A grenade detonated nearby, tearing through the tunnels, scattering dust across the train tracks, Sannan ducked aside, rifle up and ready, roadie running into the dark cover where Togusa knelt.

"So Togusa of Section 9, how can you help us?"

* * *

Motoko opened her eyes. The long cream walls of a bedroom stirred round her form as the bonsai trees lined up along the window sill moved slightly in the breeze. She groaned loudly smoothing aside the cream bed clothes. With sleep blurred eyes she stared around the dim room. There were pictures of flowers around the room, gaudy pictures. Nothing moved within the room, the silence rolled by to Motoko as she rolled over in her bed.

The small silver wristwatch ticked on the glass shelf beside her bed, a family picture resting in a silver frame. And a wedding ring…

Motoko picked it from the surface of the glass table, it felt real…

Strange, she turned it over in her hand. Within the interior of the small circlet, several Japanese were carved….

_Too the Ghost within the Shell, my love and my Wife_.

Out of a deep sense of curiosity she tried the ring, slipping it onto her ring finger, the gold band fitting snugly to her thin white fingers. Motoko rose from the bed, allowing the covers to fall from her body. She was dressed in a long white night dress, its silken folds soft against her skin as she rose from the soft mattress. She paused; the house or apartment she occupied was silent. Nothing moved within the still corridors, the quiet rooms, soft furnished and warmly lit. As the morning light peered through the loose curtains which hung across the window, she turned. There was a cupboard by the door, a walk in wardrobe at the far side of the room. She took one look at the silver framed picture beside her bed and gasped, catching her foot on a loose sheet and hit the floor.

There was a patter of small feet running thorough the halls, a small voice calling in the dim lighted corridors beyond the space Motoko occupied. She felt her now horribly human heart quail at the small voice of the young girl calling….

"Mummy!! Mummy! Are you alright…I heard a noise… mummy please answer…I'm scared!!

Motoko clenched her head in her hands, curling into a ball, tearing at her hair….This wasn't right, this wasn't right….the memories of the war, Ryeman, the Nightwatch were stealing away from her, replaced by mundane thoughts and memories. It all just seemed to be some kind of Nightmare, a dream perhaps. The ring on her finger seemed to burn like ice as the young girl appeared through the door, the purple hair moving in co-ordination with her body, the crimson eyes so full of life.

My Daughter…

"There you are mummy…." Mira, the girl smiled, her face creasing in a look of child like glee as she took Motoko's limp hand "…we're going to have breakfast."

Motoko's eyes became unfocused as she stared at the small white hand gripping her own, the golden ring on her finger, the 3 people in the picture frame, the usual stern expression gone from her face, replaced with a look of contentment....and boredom.

She seemed lost, confused, Mira pulled at the unresisting hand playfully, trying to get the older woman to her feet.

"This morning we're going to have waffles and then Daddy's taking us out for Lunch at Orikura restaurant…You'd like that wouldn't you?"

Motoko got to her feet. She paused checking the picture behind her and stared down into the young face below her.

"Yes…yes I would….."


	29. The Blue Pill

The small, white coloured kitchen was lit by several dim lights which bathed Motoko and the small girl which sat before her in a cosy light. Motoko looked at the waffle dumped unceremoniously onto the plate by the beaming girl. The dull copper eyes looked back expectantly. It just all seemed to strange as Motoko nervously lifted the food from the plate and took a hesitant bite.

It tasted real….not that Motoko would really realise what was real or not, the old thoughts were gone, replaced by a warm fuzziness like a sleeper waking from a deep sleep. The memories were all still there, of her life. The house, the daughter, the baby upstairs asleep in the cot. The cat they had until it was hit by a car several years earlier, the steady job her husband held down at the Narumoto power plant and….the green eyed man from her dreams.

"Do you like it?"

Motoko nodded, mouth full as the little girl, dressed in a soft pink dress several bunnies jumping across its folds, dropped from the high stool beside the kitchen work surface and ran across to an open cupboard. Outside, the garden, lilies and iris flowers stirring in the breeze, was lit by the bright sunlight as the day wore on.

It was; the paper resting against Motoko's now empty plate had it printed upon its white surface in large block capitals. She leant forward, touching the seat where Mira had originally been sitting. It was warm, still warm; Motoko did not know why she found that strange….

She too dropped from the chair, Mira busying herself at the sink, pushing pots and pans aside, on tip toes to place her drinking cup on the drainer, trying to reach for the bottle of juice. Motoko took the bottle, guiding the smaller girl to the lower wash basin beside the wall, helping her to fill the glass. She then reached up, placing the bottle back onto the white shelves as Mira scuttled away to whatever plaything she had to amuse herself. Outside the day seemed to brighten under a peerless blue sky as Motoko reached up, taking several dead lilies from a glass vase on the white clad window sill.

A single blue flower, a tiny crystalline speck of blue dropping down onto the white tiled floor. And then it was gone, however much Motoko searched the space where the flower had landed, nothing remained, the floor, expressionless and remarkably clean. It was gone from her memory, the single fleeting moment when her heart lulled in beat and a slight cold burst of memory flood back.

The front door, through the wood floor, white walled rooms clattered shut as a call from the hallway. A man, Motoko recognised his voice and felt an almost longing as the dark hair, brown suited man stepped into the kitchen. He wore glasses, tall with a slight, quiet demeanour, his long face well pronounced and long hair just covering the lobes of his ears.

Motoko felt cautious, hands resting on the kitchen top as he smiled warmly, ruffling Mira's hair as she passed again, a blood stained and grimy doll in her arms. Motoko blinked, shook her head to clear her vision. The doll was spotless, clean and well made, its red patchwork dress folded across Mira's arms as she passed from the room.

"Motoko? Are you Ok?"

She looked up into her hus….at least she assumed….yes it was, there was ring on his finger, 42 years of age, chartered surveyor for the Eastern Gem Energy Company, no weapons presen….

Motoko caught the draining board with one hand, the wedding ring clanking off the metal….How did she do that?

"Motoko!!" he was there, touching her arm, trying to steady her "…are you alright, do you want to sit down? Have a glass of Water maybe?"

"No….no…." Motoko smiled up into his face "…I'm fine. Aren't you supposed to be taking me out for lunch?"

Motoko was happy, content and staring into the face of….crrrrrkk…..error…..Around the table, several bowls of sushi were visible, the clean white curves of the bowl. There were several other families within the restaurant, all deep in conversation, their children watching with bored, expectant looks on their faces. Motoko felt a slight pressure on her hand and turned to see a large hand resting on her delicate fingers.

"Why don't we go on a trip this weekend, all of us to the beach house for a relaxing weekend?"

"That'd….that would be nice"

Mira looked up from her squid, the baby boy besides her gurgling happily as the waitress, blank faced and dark haired, dropped a large bowl of salad onto the table beside the bowls of fish and squid. Outside the window the sky was still a peerless blue, people passing occasionally, their faces blank and un-expectant, staring into the restaurant front as if admiring their reflection in the clean, clean glass. Across the walls several pieces of black fabric flickered, Motoko watching them as they shifted in some unknown breeze. A cog symbol became visible on the black folds of cloth, split in two and illuminated by a strike of lightning.

And then it was gone, a white fold blowing out as the waitress struggled to close the window. The baby vomited a white fluid onto the white bib stuck around his neck, her husband rising to pick the baby from the high chair. A haunted looking girl with purple hair, soft summer skirt flowing around her form walked by, leaving after images in Motoko's eyes as the still gurgling baby soiled its nappy.

"I'll clean it up…you enjoy your drink."

Motoko nodded, still trying to spot the girl as the baby was carried away into the toilets, the large metal double doors closing behind him. Motoko looked out into the street, the shops opposite were all open, groups of people emerging and disappearing into the interior then emerging moments later with bags of whatever the shop sold.

ODIN Watches

Motoko gripped the table cloth holding her head as Mira, now perturbed with a video game cast her 'mother' a warning look. The words…..seemed so….vivid.

"Mummy, are you ok?"

"I….." outside a puddle, strange, still blue sky, shattered as a single Audi R8 passed through it and stopped, the droplets holding in mid air. Time stood still literally, Mira seeming to fizz around the edges, the waitresses, clutching bottles in lacquered nailed hands, all the same, the blank face patrons pausing mid sip or bite.

A mobile rang….

The small slim phone lay on the table beside Motoko's index finger. As she stared at its metal, reflective steel surface, she couldn't quite remember it been there at all…And yet it was….the single blue screen on its surface illuminating each silvery ring.

She rose from her table, pacing across the room to one of the other families. They didn't move. Motoko, out of curiosity knelt down beside the old man, the father, his jowls hanging mid chew, the fat upper lip covered with the smallest of moustaches, his squid halfway to his mouth. Motoko could see the droplets of oil dropping from the squid's dead flesh, frozen in air. With one trembling finger, she pressed her finger into the side of his face. The face remained still, moving on the large bull neck the man sported, the indent of her finger remaining as she released the finger…In the ringing silence, the phone still rang.

Motoko looked at Mira, her crimson eyes rising from the game pad in her hands, alighting on Motoko's face.

"Don't answer." She said simply as Motoko allowed the metal pad to rest in her out stretched palm. The phone clicked open, the brightly coloured screen covered with pictures of Lotus blossom and Thai dragons twirling in the sky. Motoko looked deep into the screen, reading the dark letters in the single blue glowing box beneath.

WITHELD

She took one look at Mira, still frozen in her chair, but her face as ever not moving from Motoko's face.

"Please don't throw all this away"

Motoko answered the phone, the metal earpiece up against her ear.

"Listen very carefully, do you believe this world is real, this life, this travesty is real. Or are you part of a dream….I offer you a choice"

"Who is this…?" Motoko rose from her seat, looking around in panic, the simple cream frock she wore causing her to stumble as suddenly she became unused to its tight folds.

"This thing you believe is just memories implanted in your head by ODIN the god within the machine, your ghost….soul is been harvested by the machines to sustain another to gain self awareness. Your life, your husband, your family doesn't exist….your daughter is just another A.I developed to keep an eye on you. The construct mustn't find you at all."

"How did you get this number?"

"Have you ever asked your…..no, you've only been gone one day…." The deep male voice paused, as if in thought "…..there have been points within this….perfect….day when you've seen things which just don't compute as they should, flashes of things which you know were part of your life at some point"

"What do you want from me!!?" Motoko gripped the tablecloth, glancing across at Mira. There was a brief shimmer in the air, becoming thick like liquid, vast metal tentacles plugged into the back of her head, along her arms, her spine, the restaurant disappearing, becoming replaced with glass and green liquid, a face peered through the glass at her, green eyed and tousle haired.

The Green Eyed Man.

"No….nononononononononono….."

Motoko slumped back into her chair, the families resuming their meals, a storm gathering outside as the rain began to blanket the windows. Him….it across the table looked up from his meal, the baby gurgling and Mira, her blue dress creased and food stained as yet another drop of soup fell into her lap, stirring the squid tentacles in her soup.

Motoko tutted, taking a napkin and brushing aside the loose food, there was something there….but no it was just a perfect meal in a perfect, normal, mundane….boring day…no, that wasn't right.

"Are you done?" Motoko looked up as the Waitress spoke, hands resting on her upper legs as she bent over to come level with Motoko's head. As in the dark air outside, the moist air wet the pane of glass. Motoko paused as a thundering crash ripped through the quiet air. A vast tank screamed by, cars blowing out as it shattered the ground beneath its ball shaped feet, 4 legs working furiously to dislodge the purple haired woman on its back as she tried to open the main hatch.

In an eye blink the scene of carnage was gone, fizzling away into nothingness, Motoko rising from her chair. There were helicopters outside, black ones, their tails turning to empty out their bullet belts at several blue, 4 legged tanks who were sprinting across the building tops.

The people inside the restaurant all looked up back smiling as the world came apart around her. Motoko grabbed Mira from the table and ran, the world becoming a vivid colour of fire and light as the helicopters kept up with the blue tanks. She burst from the glass doors onto the street outside. A brown hair girl, hair in a pony tail sprinted past, a shoulder bag around her waist and a drunken tramp dropped into the gutter by the roadside and disappeared from view, his beard sinking into the water logged drain. Motoko gripped her daughter's hand and stared up at the dark sky and the unbroken, the helicopters were gone, the tanks with them.

Motoko, the dress becoming water logged and soggy looked down into Mira's eyes and struggled to come to terms.

"It's a glitc……crrrrk What's Wrong Mummy?" Mira shifted as if in shock, trying to say something and been stopped mid way through, like a CD sticking in the drive. Motoko let her hand fall, backing away from the small girl. A large body slammed into her's, pitching her forward, rough hands grabbed her and Motoko found herself staring into a pair of prosthetic eyes, their owner wet and angry glaring back….

"Motoko!! Wake up….don't forget about us and what has to be done, don't abandon me again….."

And he was gone; the street descending into blackness as the image failed and Motoko fell back into her warm bed.

* * *

12/06/2010

The small, white coloured kitchen was lit by several dim lights which bathed Motoko and the small girl which sat before her in a cosy light. Motoko looked at the waffle dumped unceremoniously onto the plate by the beaming girl. The dull copper eyes looked back expectantly. This had happened before, she could feel the memory of it been slowly erased as the Motoko in her head twisted away, trying to pull away.

Mira was up as Motoko pushed the plate away, eyes becoming dewy as she seemed to hold back tears. She was struggled, the edges of her shape becoming unapparent and fuzzy.

"Don't you like it Mummy, I spent ages making it….don't you love me?"

"No…." 'wait' the Motoko of her head said, the cold, brooding presence 'you don't know her, she isn't your daughter, she is just a build up of codes and numbers, a figment if your imagination….you personality made real.' "….yes"

"What….?" The figment said as Motoko dropped from her chair. "….what?" Motoko didn't stop as she quickly scooted the paper from the table and made for the door. A blast tore the dress from her back and scattered her across the floor as Mira rose from her seat, the air crackling around her, the tang of ozone permeating the air around her. The skin on her back was burnt, the simple dress taking the worst of the electrical current.

"I asked you to stop…." Mira slammed her foot into Motoko's unresisting back as she stepped lightly onto the floor, slamming Motoko's face into the white tiles. "….why do you resist your new life when everything you could possibly want is here."

"Because this isn't my life, it is just a figment of my imagination…." Motoko said thorough blood soaked lips "….what are you….the memories make now sense, I can't feel a connection"

"Lets have a cup of coffee and then I'll make sure you'll forget the whole incident. All I offer is a choice, a chance in fact for a better life."

"This isn't better…." Motoko felt her spine creak as Mira applied more pressure to her back "…this is a prison"

"How do you know? Can you remember anything outside this life?"

Motoko tried to think, the last memories, the dreams, the people.

"You can't can you…you're just a shell that desires to be filled by something more then this travesty you call a life. You can't remember anything."

Motoko rested her head in her hands as Mira stalked around her still form. There among the empty mind she could see something, rising from the mist. A single skylark broke through, its song sweet and filled the green hills of Motoko's mind with sound and beauty.

"I…I can…"

"What?" Mira turned as her elder rose from the floor.

"I can remember something and you've…."

Mira took a warning step forward, dropping low like a panther about to strike "….what do you say?"

"…..you've been a very naughty girl"

The fist caught Mira across the face, the streams of numbers tearing into nothingness as Motoko's fist connected. Mira slammed hard into the kitchen top, sliding down the cupboard door and slumping in a tiny huddle at the cupboard base. Motoko looked down at the sad pile as she pulled the shreds of her dress around her body.

In the silence, the crickets chirruped outside the double glazed windows, the antique clock ticked in the softly furnished living room, the singing of skylarks filling Motoko's head as she turned, taking the mobile phone from the kitchen surface.

She answered it in the first ring, pressing the ear piece to her and ear and spoke….

"And what do you want me to do?"

* * *

I refered to most of the previous chapters as parts of Motoko's memories, Brownies points for those who can name the sepearate chapters....


	30. The Construct

"There is a gun inside the top drawer of the kitchen Unit several metres away from where you're standing. In there you will find several cartridges, a torch, a book of matches and pass. I need you to get your car and drive to the Dion Building in the central part of the city. Take the 2nd elevator and go to the 3rd floor. There you will find a door, open it."

"I can't…."

"You must, a lot more then your freedom rests on this."

"Then how could you let me into this mess."

"You'll see….I doubt you remember anything up to this point."

Motoko opened the kitchen unit, taking the black Serubo handgun from the wooden bottom of the box shaped drawer. Mira still hadn't moved from the tiled floor, the purple hair seeming to shimmer and flicker distinctly as she struggled to remain in sync. The computer program keeping her alive must be in flux Motoko guessed as she lifted the heavy gun to the light.

"There will be men coming to your house. I need you to go out the back door, find the car and drive away. Do not get caught."

"I don't know….."

"You have too, I need you to open that door and leave the net."

"This is all an illusion?"

"I'm sorry."

Motoko snapped the ammo cartridge into the breach, released the safety and gripped the stock.

"I'm not…."

* * *

Ryeman glanced up from the console screen as Batou pulled the wires from the back of his neck. Below the vast fields, the ruins of the old Quarter of Moscow still sat in dust covered droves. High above, Motoko floated, naked, iridescent and asleep, her face hidden by a cloud of her own hair, the metal wires plugged into the flesh along the arms and along the spine. A single thick wire ran up, disappearing down Motoko's own throat, the breathing tube, Ryeman guessed as the others crouched silently in the dark shadows of the old house's second floor. From the square, soviet windows, among the wreckage of art deco images and wooden sides, the watery green light boiled vilely. Ryeman closed the lid, signalling for Mitchell to take the box.

It had been a gruelling descent. The tachikomas' had dropped from a great height, swinging from one pod to another to avoid the last mechopods who dared to drop to the machines level. And eventually had reached the vast, ruined underground necropolis which was the remains of old Moscow. In the distance, lit by the green glow of the pod trees above which were held aloft on the branches of vast iron tree looking things, the tall barbed shapes of the old Kremlin building were crumbling in the dark air as the machines' harvest bore fruit. The Deathwatch squad sat in wait beneath Motoko's pod. They'd been there for a day, waiting in almost fear as the machines scoured the dark buildings above and around them. And for now they'd avoid all contact.

"Is she following your instructions?"

Ryeman looked up from the box…

"She's trying to keep track, which is one confused lady we're trying to deal with. She can't remember anything she had when she was out of the pod. The whole world is fake looking; ODIN's stereotype of the human race basically smells of roses."

He took a swig from a canteen, moistening his dust scarred lips.

"No liquid near the equipment!!"

"The whole lack of colour within that world doesn't at all raise any questions."

"Hmmm"

"…so all we can do is get to the core room, get the firewalls open and uplink Motoko's body to the main frame and we're away and ODIN will go boom, hopefully."

"Is there anything we can do for her?"

"We need to unsync ODIN. The machine appears to be broadcasting through several triangular positions. These trig points are acting as broadcasters as the earth, amazingly enough is not flat and is round. ODIN broadcasts using the Cyber-comms of the infected, that's how it passes from body to body. When Hong Kong went live it was caused by Cyber-comm. interference."

Batou shook his head to clear the cyber interference as above the shifting colours reflected off his grey hair.

"And how do we do that?"

Ryeman opened the silver hard drive box, the casing snapping up into his hands.

"I need to make a call."

* * *

Motoko landed with a thud in the flower beds beside the glassy kitchen window and crouched low. Across the dark kitchen, the lights dimming the suited men and armed police quickly covered each angle of the kitchen, stopping suddenly as they reached the body of Mira.

Motoko gripped the stock of the hand gun, the loose jeans and the tight black shirt she'd found in the cupboards upstairs much easier to move in then the restricting skirt. The garden was a simple square of green earth, the blue and white flowers surrounded the edges of the small space, a single strip of gravel along the side of the large house. She pushed aside several pieces of gravel, taking a nail she'd fished from the upstairs bedroom and dug a hole. She dropped the nail in head first and rested the bullet bottom onto the metal point. She then covered the earth back over the bullet head. Then careful not to disturb the trap, she leapt, her human feeling legs pushing her much further then she expected over the wooden, Creosote stinking fence.

* * *

The Armed police Officer lowered his rifle and squatted down beside the sink, his black face plate scanning the wooden sideboards.

"What is it Sergeant?"

"Do you smell gas?"

The fire alarm began to keen above the two men as the paper shoved into the working toaster started to burn.

* * *

The building blew out in a vast fireball which singed the back of Motoko's neck as she knelt in the next door neighbour's back garden. As the burning rubble fell around her, burning flower beds the dark sky above her head seemed to shift and change. Motoko could see ripples in the air, bright burning movement high above as the world seemed to shift. Something was changing.

Motoko didn't hang around, leaping the locked gate beside the house into the street on the other side, running in a crouched position. There were calls of alarm from the road as several riot police brought their rifles to bear.

"Drop your Weapon…."

Motoko didn't move, snapping the safety off for the second time.

"Drop it now….this is your last warning!!"

Motoko straightened her arm, finger wrapped around the trigger as the police stole warily toward her.

"Doesn't it bother you…" she said, face hidden below a wave of purple hair "…that I killed you comrades….why don't you shoot first and talk later."

"They are replaceable...you, however, are not"

"...and so are you...but do you know what...you're just as fun to kill"

Her foot slammed into the chest of the lead trooper, flipping her up over his head, the back of her fist slamming into the metal back of his helmet and landed gracefully on the black tarmac of the road which split the quiet suburb in two, she side swiped another who got to close, her hand cleaving down through his armour as the computer programmed enforcer screamed as the static shock burned through his complex program, Motoko ducking away almost immediately, digging her feet into the one trying to sneak up behind her, shattering his armour plate as she catapulted herself forward, leaping over the metal hood of the squad car.

The keys were still in the ignition, the engine still idling as Motoko swung herself in and slammed her foot into the throttle, spinning the wheel, to push her into a messy arch and was gone in a cloud of dust and smoke.

* * *

Ryeman clamped the last gel grenade to the side of Motoko's tank, held aloft by several black ropes which strung down the men below as he pulled the last piece into place. Before him, the naked pale body of Motoko Kusanagi hung in the water, face hidden as Ryeman paused in his work, staring into the sleeping face.

"Bossman!" Mitchell hissed from ground level, hunkering down low into the ground and pointing up toward the ceiling. Ryeman swore and hugged himself to the pod's metal surface as several Mechopods passed over head. The gel grenade was pressed painfully into the side of Ryeman's face as the flattened himself to the glass surface with little to hide his presence. He was all too aware of how exposed he was as the mechas paused in flight, alighting on metal claws several pods away from Ryeman's position. Ryeman ground his teeth together, metal gauntlets digging into his palms as he hid from the machines' steely gaze. The ropes were far too visible he realised as with one foot he scooted the black fibre away, trying to regain his hiding place.

The metal clip which hung from the black wire clanked against the pod sides, the mecha pods jerking their bulbous heads up at the sound. With a whirr and a buzz, the pods took flight, pushing away from the green glass surface, their tentacles grasping as they fired up their anti-grav drives.

"Blow the charges…!"

"Sir?"

"Blow them now!!!"

He threw himself backwards as the grenades blew out, pitching Motoko's body into the cold air. She still hung there, held aloft by the wires in the interior of the pod, its glass walls shattered, the fluid poured down onto the moisture parched ground below. Ryeman hung like a fish on a line as he twisted in air, trying to bring his rifle to bear on the lead pod as it struggled to right it self in mid air after been blown aside by the blast of blue fire from the plasma grenade. A mecha caught him across the chest, spinning him like a kite in the breeze as he swerved aside, a good 5 metres from the pod's surface. He caught a loose strut with one boot and pushed out again, slamming the rifle into the mechapod's face as it past, shattering the glass optics and sending it swirling away as it tried to regain vision. Saito plunged aside, unslinging his rifle from his belt and squatted in the open as he lined up his shot. Pressing his eye to the scope, he could see more pods began to fill the corners of his vision, still at least 3 miles away, but coming closer. The sniper's bullet smashed aside the Mechopod in midair, pitching it down into the grey earth of the floor, its tentacles coming away in chunks as it shattered.

Ryeman caught the last in a burst of fire and jerked back to line himself up with Motoko's body. With ease he pushed forward, catching the underneath of the pod with his boot back and with some difficulty pulled himself into the interior of the pod. Motoko's wet flesh pressed against his armour as she hung like some kind of macabre puppet, the bruising on her delicate skin where the machines had crudely implanted several sockets to allow the questing wires to plug into. Ryeman snorted with disgust, gathering her frame in his arms and pulled down. With a click and a hiss the wires came away one by one, dropping her body into his arms. He pulled a single silver probe from his belt, digging it into the metal piping which stuck horrifically from her mouth allowing her to breathe in meat like smelling liquid. With a resounding gargle, the pipe began to pull from her throat, its metal sides easily visible through the flesh of her throat.

"How could I have let this happen to you…?" Ryeman took her face in his hands as the pipe came loose dripping mucus over the black floor hundreds of metres below, the pale features stark among the black metal and slowly dripping fluid. He flicked a single purple strand from her vision even though her eyes were still closed. He took a black cloth and covered her form in its folds, snapping the black plastic clips into place to cover her body and with little effort, dropped down to the floor below.

"Mr Batou, here, you can hold your old leader, keep her safe and we'll all be alight…"

"Major…"

"That's not her name and she'll tear you a new one if she hears you call her that….are we green?"

"What the hell? How could you let this happen?"

Ryeman didn't answer, signalling for Mitchell to move on, gathering up his overly large rucksack.

"Why don't we just yank her and be done with it?" Mitchell snapped back his visor, exposing the haggard long face behind, the blond hair, straw like and tuck back under the metal band which kept the helm still, fixing Ryeman with those piercing blue eyes.

"Because if we pull the plug, we need to retrieve the ghost, fine we'll unplug her but the box is keeping her alive. The pods are just there to sustain the body, to keep it alive, the actual harvesting is completely cyber and mental."

Ryeman gripped his rifle and began to sprint down the ash covered streets, the rest of the squad and the tachikomas, who gathered several other squad members from the ground to open their pods to allow transport. Motoko's body was sat carefully beside the silver hard drive inside the lead pod as Batou patted his own unit and swung inside.

"We move forward."

"How do you know which way we're going?" Batou stuck his head above the metal lip of his tank.

Ryeman pointed above his head.

"Just following the wires"

* * *

Motoko gripped the steering wheel in her blood soaked hands and gripped the hand brake, the wheels skidding as she turned the corner, the busy city streets thronged with cars. Nothing above moved, the sky was empty except of the dark gathering storm clouds. Ahead the two prongs of the Dion Corporation Building erupted from the dark soil, their sides a bright white, illuminated by several neon lights which lined the sides of the twin blades the towers resembled.

"3rd Floor"

She span the wheel to avoid the police car which screeched into view, dropping low in her seat as the police peppered her car with bullets. She shot past, skidding onto another thin city street, wheels spinning as she slammed back into her seat

"They shoot without warning, what the hell am I supposed to do, surrender, I'll die. Fight, I'll die too" she said through gritted teeth as rain began to pour, wetting the wind screen in an opaque layer of water. She pulled the car up onto the pavement, all strangely empty of early evening shoppers as more police cars screamed into view, their sirens blaring. A shop sign roared by in the corner of Motoko's eye, more dark spots were welling up around the corners of her vision. They'd been there for some time, a strange cluster of darkness which had occurred several minutes ago as well as a strange wrenching feeling in her chest. After that single strange moment, doubled up in the police car, her breathing had become tortured and pained, a tight feeling constricting her chest causing her to pant more often then not. And the strange numb feeling in her arms.

She was swallowed by a vast black spot, the steering wheel smashing her chest as the moment of pure blindness sent her straight into a nearby dumpster. Motoko rolled from the car, dribbling blood onto the white stained and holed shirt she wore. She could hear them, yelling, running round where she lay on the floor but the moment of blackness and still not passed, Motoko feeling as though she was staring into an empty void of darkness. The soft crackle as the engine ignited in the trashed police car. The soft tinkle of glass as the police officer moved on the other side of the car. Motoko shed the shirt, stripping down to the lose tank top she wore below. Blind, she reached up, feeling the heat of the fire against her hand and stuck the wrecked shirt into the flames. The shirt began to burn, Motoko gritting her teeth against the pain as the fire burned her hands.

There was another crunch of glass behind her. Motoko sunk down into a crouched, grabbing a shard of metal which had sheared off in the crash. She was up like a wolf, the metal shard meeting flesh, the warm drizzle of blood spreading across her face. The petrol caught, the burning shirt she'd shoved in the oil slick burning faster then she had expected. She was lifted off her feet, the air whooshing around her head as she pitched into the dark tarmac, still blind and feeling every minute. There was a horrific snap of bone as her leg twisted out from under her, the gun tucked into her trousers skittering away across the hard floor.

Dazed, the darkness swirled around her as the blindness remained, thorough her heat scorched face and pained breaths, Motoko could hear the yelling of men around her, the heat of the fire and the sharp points of glass beneath her hands as she tried to rise from the floor.

She screamed as boot slammed her down into the broken glass beneath her foot. The cold snub of a handgun was planted to the back of her head and Motoko heard the click of the safety snapping off.

"You've caused us quite a bit of trouble haven't you Orga?"

"Fuck You, Metal Dick."

Her face was slammed down into the glass, the blood littering the black tarmac as the boot on the back of her neck ground her cheek into the ground.

"We know where your body is, your mortal shell."

"…and what would you do, you can't kill me can you"

"But I can cause you to feel such things, happiness, sadness, awe, love…." The voice became close, the hot breath blowing across her cheek as the voice continued in sultry tones

"…pleasure or pain"

The darkness cleared Motoko found her staring down onto the glass flecked ground, her blood mingling with the oil. One of her eyes were bleeding, covering her vision with strands of crimson stained hairs. The Enforcer stood above her, his boot digging into her back. He had a slight expectant air about him as he lent back, as if expecting something to happen.

"Your body is gone…."

Motoko raised herself up, grinning evilly through blood stained teeth, the grime of her face and the scorched, burnt skin making her appear like some daemon rising from hell. She spat out a thick strand of phlegm and blood onto the asphalt and fixed the enforcers around her with a cold, hard stare.

"Take me to your leader"

* * *

The vast cathedral like space loomed high above Ryeman's head. It was mind boggling, huge arches reared up from the dark, far away from the braziers of bluer fire far below. The ceiling was painted beautifully, displaying machines with white wings rising from the scorched and blackened earth below into sunlight and white clouds and a vast orb of energy directly in the centre of the ceiling. A set of wide stairs rose from the hexagonal area up to a wide balcony, its top flanked by two pillars which were lit by more purple braziers and a vast green glow. The whole space was silent and dark, nothing moved, no machines flew, no breeze blew which put Ryeman in mind, from his position at the mouth of a large circular vent in the floor of some kind of inner sanctum….or a crypt.

"See anything?"

"No we're all clear; the whole place is flat lining…"

"What?"

"Dead, no life signs, no movement"

Batou gripped his gun. The hole was two small for the think tanks to move through, they were taking the longer way round, or so they said. Probably they'd be receiving word in a few minutes of several information consoles been opened around the facility as the curious machines bumbled around. Ryeman seemed nonplussed, the rifle pressed to his chest as he waited his head just above the parapet, in the cool air of the room beyond.

He pulled himself up and dropped down on one knee, his rifle checking every shadow as he quickly looked around. Behind him the other Deathwatch pulled them into view and Motoko's empty shell was dragged into view. Batou found a large metal gauntlet in front of his face as he made to climb from the dark pit. He looked up at Ryeman, his proffered hand ignored.

"A hand up?"

Batou nodded grimly and took the large metal mitt in one hand.

"I guess that'll be symbolic of something…"

"It's amazing what a simple handshake and achieve. We may try and solve everything through speech but sometimes touch can be just as effective maybe more so."

Fredrics snorted behind his visor...

"You're telling me"

"Oh grow up…"

Ryeman glanced around, the high collar of his suit reflecting on his face as the consoles within its metal parapet under lit his face. He paused, finger on the trigger as he stared up at the strangely human looking gargoyles which glared down from the roof above.

"They really hate us don't they"

Batou glanced around…. "I hate art"

"Yeah but this is truly something isn't it?"

As if flicked on by some unseen switch vast holographic images began to spiral above, hundreds of lines interlinking and becoming one before spreading out in a spectrum of colours, vast streams of energy passing through huge loops of green floating letters, flying around planets, galaxies. Batou on one end of his comm. link defiantly heard something go 'oops'.

"We've got company….that little light display they've got set up has just lit us up no mistake."

There was a cacophony of noise from the many arches in the vast underground space. Hundreds of feet could be heard, beating across the dark space. The vast whirring of huge mecha could also be heard, hundreds, millions were coming. As if the very gates of heaven had been tossed aside as the hundreds of arches were lit by bright blue and green lights, the huge black metal portals literally glowed.

"The Chosen are coming…." Ryeman, his gun ready, his scope to his eye "….we make for the stairs"

"What the hell are they?"

"Big ass machines…"

"We can fight them sir!!"

"We can't fight them all. Retreat…." The trooper paused, falling away from the vent, rifle rising hesitantly "…..RUN!!!" Ryeman snarled, casting around at the 5 entrances.

Thundering roars echoed through the long space, a vile rhythm pumping through the dark. Drums, it almost sounded like drums to Ryeman as he pushed more on. He took to his heels, the squad around him sprinting across the huge space, lit by the vast nebula of light above him. Saito was stumbling along ahead, his broken leg slowing his progress. The sniper had turned a rather pale colour as he was pushed along. Ryeman grabbed him by the shoulders, hoisting him up of the ground, throwing the man over his shoulder and haring across the black tiled floor.

Mitchell caught Batou across the shoulder, taking Motoko's shell from the large cy-borg as Batou stumbled forward.

"Faster!! Faster!! Faster would be better!!

A gun fired, blowing aside an android which leapt from the dark pit. Fredrics, Mitchell clouted the smaller soldier round the head with the back of his mitt.

"Idiot, don't provoke them!!"

"Why, they're already bloody provoked now" A vast seething mass burst from the darkness, millions of androids and through that crowd of blood, shadows and pain, the vast cog like bulk of the Chosen. They were like vast works of art on legs. Huge cross shaped feet kept the things well balanced on thick set legs where hydraulics worked furiously to keep the machines moving. They had increasing rounded bodies, a vast spine of black metal rising along their backs and the head, set further forward was long and beak like, face plates broke by eyes of green fire. From the large rounded bodies, the vast arms were clad in carved blocks of silver metal ending in claws of polished silver. They towered over the surrounding androids, their metal fists nearly on the ground as the quested around. And beyond them, Grendels were pulling into view, passing through the large cracks in the floor from the underground factories of machines.

Ryeman could see 15 chosen above the masses and scorned lining up against the far walls. As he mounted the stairs, as the bullets began to whine past his head, cutting down 3 Deathwatch soldiers, he could feel some kind of warmth in the air as above his head, the holographic image twisted in space, vast planets and stars grinding into view, and ODIN, a vast pitiless orb rising from the dark. Earth and the moon were surrounded by vast swarms of green letters, as data streams began to flow from the dark surface. As he watched the planet, the sky turned black obscuring the seas, oceans, land. Earth became a black orb as pollution flooded the atmosphere from the vast machinations below.

**Do you see it now?**

ODIN spoke through the comm. channel as hundreds of words began to swarm through the consoles easily visible from several stone recesses in the floor. As he paused beneath the dark sky, as the Deathwatch ran for cover in the pillars at the top of the stairs. Ryeman still stood staring into the dark orb of the Earth above.

**The perfect world**

At that point Ryeman realised that it'd gone far beyond the Virus ODIN. The machines had gone completely beyond the realms of Self awareness. The entity ODIN was far beyond anything they'd seen before. The infected Androids were just a diversion; ODIN was the collective consciousness of the Mecha race, a rival race. ODIN was just the collection of minds, all collective. Destroying ODIN would make the machines think for themselves, to be stand alones, but what this war had become, it wasn't just a harvest. It was holy purge.

"There is choice and there is ignorance….the machines didn't have to follow the war, they chose because ODIN dictated so. The first few went mad because you were unable to control your power, now the machines are full of energy, all rationale thought taken up by your vast intellect. I kill you and give the machines a choice."

**You cannot kill a God…**

"Raganorok"

And from that dark orb, a huge bulk of metal, spine and lit by blue plasma fire erupted from the Earth, leaving the planet behind.

**The ark will leave this planet behind and you will also be the last stranded.**

"No…."

**You deny the inevitable Orga, you will not be able to resist.**

"Hah, I'd like to see you try…"

**We always will and we have….**

"Because I follow Ysimir"

**Life is only a pathetic fallacy. **

Ryeman said something inaudible, his words passing through the dark space as ODIN watched and waited for the end. As a single bullet slammed into Ryeman's chest he said to the dark air around him.

"Rage against the Machine"

Mitchell grabbed the adjudicator from his position on the stairs pulling the large man into the darkness beneath the pillar. The scorned smashed their shelter as the androids were kept at bay by several Deathwatch brave enough to stick their heads around the pillar sides.

"Sir….can you hear me?"

There was blood trickling down from Ryeman's throat, a dark ragged hole in his chest. From the cold lips of the last man on Earth who'd stared into the machines face and refused to back down, Mitchell could see the ghost about to leave, slumping back as despair and fear welled up inside him. He glanced across at Matti who was lent up against an opposite wall, clutching at a ragged hole in her amour where an android had winged her before the last entrance. She was covered in blood and had failed to say anything. From the pale skin beneath the blood, machine ichors and sweat, her eyes were white and staring, her hands shaking. Fredrics was crouched beside her trying to get some response as the rifle held in her nerveless hands clattered to the floor.

There were hundreds of voices screaming through her head. Hundreds joined as one. Enough to make most lose their sanity and make the blood flow from her ears as the vast energy gathered throughout the dark rooms flowed freely through her head. The pure power was coursing through her blood and she didn't want it. She could feel it burning as more and more pressed at the several implant sockets in the back of her head where the Nightwatch had plugged several dampers into the base of her skull.

Batou couldn't her voice screaming in his head, as beside the quiet, ever peaceful body of Motoko, the only thoughts in his head was seeing her smile and move again. Matti tried to grip the last strands of Ryeman's ghost as it seemed to slip from her fingers and in that single moment…a quiet, angry and gripey voice wrenched her back to the world of the living..

GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD!!!

* * *

The bloodied and scorched remains of trooper Icarus Brent crawled from the dark fox hole, mewling as the last of his skin broke away from his burnt flesh as the last of the ion clouds burned away, exposing the blue sky above. He stared up into the sky and wept, the tears stinging his face, or at least the scabbed and destroyed hole where his face was.

A spear, metal and sparking with electricity smashed into the ground before his bleeding a destroyed face as the Mecha strode forward. As their massed ranks fanned out to approach the bleeding and wounded soldier, Brent clasped at his pistol, still mewling in pain as his skinless hands met the bulky stock of the handgun.

"Why do you still resist…" The machine smacked the gun aside, it was defunct anyway, melted and unusable. "…we have crushed you and driven you to destruction and yet you do not stop. You are like cockroaches. We hunt you down and kill you but still you never stop, never surrender. Are you gone of your senses?"

Through the black hole of his mouth, Brent murmured something, raising himself up to the machine's face, a perfect representation of human kind.

"What did you say Orga"

Brent tried to smile, his face contorting painfully…

"Burn in hell Cold One"


	31. Purple Haired Enigma

Motoko slammed hard into the floor of the large foyer of the Dion building and stared up into the bronze face of the Statue above her head. In the likeness of Hans Schieder, the jowly faced man stared down in disgust upon all who entered the building. Around her the dark clad enforcers had her by the neck, a thick band of plastic which constricted her throat and forced her forward, tottering on tip toes as they raised the loop.

It was all too humiliating as the pain within Motoko's spirit and body increased tenfold. The black spots were replaced by tiny brown birds which flittered above her vision, their dark wings alight with song as they scattered their sweet melody across Motoko's hearing.

"The skylarks…."

"What is it dog…" a boot smashed into Motoko's chest sending her down into the marble beneath her feet. Motoko grinned feverishly from the ground.

"….they're singing"

"Hah, the only things real in this world are your pain and the God, he sees what you require and he takes it away, the fate you deserve. We see what he sees…there are no little birds."

Motoko half laughed, staggering forward. The lights from the windows blinding her again as around her the empty rectangular foyer seemed to be empty of all noise. I couldn't do it Ryeman….

She fell forward in her blindness, soft carpet rushing up to meet her face as she lay amongst the hard face soldiers, the last breaths she felt burning her throat. There was strange feeling of weightlessness as the carpet brushed against her skin. A lift, she realised, taking her up into the recesses of the building. As the dark washed over her, cooling the pain of the grime soak wounds and torn flesh, she could still hear the tiny twittering of birds around her, tiny little murmurs, old love notes and whispers of passion to her in the dark. A single voice called to her, the child, Mira sprinting through the dark and was gone. As if staring at an old class photo, in neat rows of hundreds of faceless people she could see faces among the faceless happy smiling people, stern and tall. Whitman waving from the back row, struggling to be seen over the heads of those in front of her. George in her wheel chair, Basher grinning madly. Mitchell, his arms folded, his short straw like hair caught in an unseen breeze. Shi'ja, her face covered and in darkness, the blazing blue eyes forever watchful. Diego, his face unshaven, split in a rare smile. Fredrics, his face forever covered by the black mask of the Deathwatch. Shepard standing as a teacher would beside his students, watching with a strange sense of pride. Section 9 stood in the middle row, Batou calm and content, Pazu watchful and hawk like. Aramaki stood one hand in his pocket, quiet and confident. Saito also his presence brooding beside the large black sniper rifle case. Borma, pizza boxes in one hand with Ishikawa in his shadow clutching a dive helm. Hideo Kuze smiled and waved from the back row beside the dark presence of Kayabuki who stood arms placed primly against her legs. Aoi, dressed in the old blue coat stood on the front row, smiling quietly as Motoko felt the tears roll down her cheeks.

And there, in the middle of the front row, Ryeman stood, a single blue flower tucked into the webbing of the large bulky rucksack, his hand wrapped around a chocolate bar. He had a mischievous grin, green eyes flashing, hands as usual down by his sides, waiting for her to come and join them in the picture.

She felt herself lifted, dragged along the marble floor from the lift's soft interior. As the picture disappeared into the recesses of her mind Motoko looked up into the darkness and felt her end coming.

* * *

Ryeman yelled loudly as he was pulled from the brink of Death. He could feel his skin reuniting across his chest as the nanobots installed into his system repaired all excess damage to his organic body. More and more androids were piling up the stairs as hundreds pushed forward. Mitchell, his face lit by the rapid firing rifle, was screaming at his foes as his squad was either torn to pieces or falling back into the central chamber behind. It was set up like some vast cone, rising up into the dark above. Directly in the centre of the floor, in the middle of a disc shaped set into the black metal floor, a single holograph turned in the air.

"How the hell are you still alive!!"

"I needed the extra power to turn the nanites on, physic energy, exactly what I needed…" He smacked the side of his head like a swimmer clearing water from his ear, stretching is neck and yawning widely. "…thanks Kiddo" he patted Matti on the shoulder as he passed.

"What do we do?!!"

"We get Motoko to the central core and get the hard drive set up. Fire up the memory coils and get our girl back." He pointed toward the central panel in the centre of the room "…lift." He said simply.

"Sir, are you all right?"

"Fine…Fine…Fine…Now captain…get moving."

He hefted Motoko's body and sprinted from the shadows by the pillars, making for the single point of light. Mitchell raised his rifle and yelled across the echoing gunfire…

"Run!! Head for the Adjudicator's position…"

Ryeman looked up as the dead weight of Motoko across his shoulder banged against the side of his head. Above his head, vast streams of energy passed from huge cylindrical pipes into the vast ball of energy high above, the walls of the funnel breaking into segments giving the vast flows of energy the shape of a flower.

"ODIN" Ryeman breathed as he dropped Motoko's empty shell down beside the single panel. It was a strange shape, putting Ryeman in mind of a tree. A large selection of Holographic keys exploded from one side as he pressed is hand against the image, causing it to shimmer.

"Tachikoma!!"

"Ready and Waiting Mr Watchman…." The squeaky voice echoed resoundingly through Ryeman's comm. link "…we've hacked into the mainframe and awaiting instruction."

"I want you to divert all power to the lift shaft. Draw power away from ODIN and pull the last dregs of Motoko's energy to a single point. I want to know which machine holds the Ghost."

"All power been transferred now, developing an energy dam and running a scan on all surrounding machines for Life streaming…"

"Are we all aboard?" Saito sank down onto his haunches and took the head off an android that crested the stairs.

"Affirmative…I don't think these guys want our ghosts and are quite happy killing us." Fredrics blew apart another about to reach the disk's edge.

"Oh yeh think!!"

"Ok operating lift shaft now."

There was a roar of engines as the lift broke away from the ground and rose at some speed, the walls becoming a blur of light and colour as they passed into the thinner section. There was no obvious way the lift was moving, or at least any that Ryeman could see, it just 'did', the machines becoming tiny dots below. Above, the vast seething mass of ODIN twirled amidst a sea of wires and lights, holographic projections flitting across its green, glowing surface. Hundreds of wires ran up toward the vast ball of energy which was housed, and Ryeman could put money on that fact, inside the vast spire they'd spotted in the distance during the final moments of flight.

A small speck was quickly coming closer as they rose, ascending into the vast data mire of ODIN. It seemed to be attached by several major wires which hung down from the vast ball of energy. They passed into another vast space, lights blazing from many ports and balconies around a second funnel, deep within the hive shaped complex. The speck suddenly became larger, a large plinth, big enough to hold two people hung in space, its surface covered with runes and channels running to the wires which rose into several holographic ports high above.

Lit by the green lights of ODIN, the body of Hans Schieder laid, his skull like features plugged into a large implant socket. He was dressed simply in a black robe, identical to the one Motoko was draped in, his flesh hanging from his bones from the long amount of time he'd lain there, preserved and still alive, deep within the dream like shape he and ODIN had created. The plinth snapped against the lift floor and rested its large bulk on the metal surface. Hans didn't move his body still as he dreamed whatever dream the vast presence above had dictated.

"Mitchell…" Ryeman lifted Motoko's body onto the metal surface "…get that hard drive plugged into the main driver…" he pulled several wires from the underneath of the plinth and plugged them into the implants at the base of Motoko's neck "…if I'm right this is the main input source to ODIN above and this is Deus."

He signalled to Hans's body beside Motoko's. Above hundreds of letters flitted down to Ryeman's vision, shaking rapidly as if trying to force him away. Ryeman shooed them away with a sweep of his hands.

"It knows we're here people, which means every machine in the rest of the world knows we're here."

"Mr Watchman!!"

Ryeman raised a hand to his ear, wincing as the squeaky voice cut through his hearing like a knife. Mitchell looked up he at last plugged the hard drive into a single metal portal at the base of the plinth.

"What?"

"We've located Motoko's machine, it's in Japan, and the power is stopped to ODIN's central processor, but the energy reserves are so large means the shortage won't start to cause a problem for several hours"

"Where the hell are you?" Batou pulled his comm. from his ear as Saito spoke, eyeing the wax covered B.E.A.D with disgust.

"Central processor room, 5 clicks away Mr Saito…it's really nice to hear your voice again!!"

"Yeah, yeah thanks."

"We've developed full control of the buildings main frame and located the rest of Mr Watchman's squad."

"But we've got really bad news…ODIN has taken control of all the facility, we're unable to stop the spread into your section. You've got machines cutting all your escape routes off…there's no way out."

"In thought it was just normal to give a building a thermostat but you guys had to go the whole hog didn't you…." Mitchell muttered, checking over the edge to the vast drop where the machines crawled up the armoured slopes "…you gave the building a bloody brain."

"Right we're up and running…!" Ryeman opened the hatch on the top of the silver box and opened the screen up so he could get a clear picture "…Japan, really, really quite out of my range. Well, birds of a feather…."

"…and its coming to us."

"Good."

"With several Million more"

"Ah"

* * *

Anna Mitchell stared up at the sky from the asphalt at her feet as all the machines around her turned to look to the dark skies of the North. Mid fight they'd stopped and looked, their many green, glowing eyes looking toward ODIN and their home. Soldiers stood among the dead, confused as in the smoking ruins of Paris, the mechopods took flight, the vast harvesters, their storage holds only half full, retracted their tentacles and took flight, rising into the sky as they left behind their quarry and fled northward.

"Have we won Ma'am?"

Anna looked at the trooper who approached her position, her brown eyes becoming visible as she pulled the helm from her head…

"No, I don't think we have."

* * *

Brent, his pain wracked body burning in the rain which poured from the now dark clouds looked up as the last patch of blue closing across the dark sky. In the last moment of life, he could see the machines look north, their white faces turning in unison to watch the dark clouds. And one by one began to run, to return to their master.

* * *

Brenner dropped from the Wrecked Raven and watched the sky become full of Mecha as they shot north, their passage stirring the wind above his head as millions of machines were sprinting across the wide plains of Vietnam. He could see the dark clouds gathering across the last pieces of sky as the Earth was plunged into darkness. He stirred the dust at his feet, gripped his rifle and sprinted down into the last patches of sun to find whatever enemy remained. For Brenner, he'd never left Hong Kong.

* * *

Jones burned through the air, his battle suit engines glowing as the Kraken Harvester above his head burnt out in a gout of flame, its tentacles cut and molten where he'd blasted through with his flight engines. He shattered the tarmac, breathing heavily, frenzied as he cast around for more to kill. Except the streets were now empty, the machines turning and running through the dark abandoned streets. Around him the troops were cheering into the dark air as the androids left and the vast war-machines lumbered north.

Jones could feel the last dregs of the fight go out of him as the suit slumped forward onto its knees as Jones knelt and wept for the death around him. The ruined Alaskan town, the dead soldiers, those driven mad and dead inside. He could see them, all alive and passing before his suit as he struggled to hold back the pain, the blood of Gooding still sprinkled across the head of the suit.

* * *

Shepard was knelt in prayer before the memorial. Above his head, the mechopods flew home, their dark shapes casting shadows over the white snow as in the gathering night, his rifle discarded beside his boots, Shepard knew what was happening, the red carnations above his head, stirred in the breeze as behind him, Kayabuki too knelt in solitude at the base of a nearby cherry tree, alone and desperate. She clutched at the hem of her skirt as her bowed head revealed nothing of the pain she felt.

The city burned behind her, the machines had lain waste, smoke rising from the hundreds of plasma scores across the city left by the hundreds of machines which and tore through the streets, slaughtering all.

It was not salvation that greeted the Prime Minister when she stared at the sky, but a new sense of dread as the machines screamed north.

* * *

Motoko opened her eyes, the cold stone surface under her face rubbing against her skin as she was dragged forward across the marble floor. They must be 3 floors up she thought as she was dumped unceremoniously on the marble floor. She couldn't remember why she cared, except for the murmuring voices above her head. As in the blindness, Motoko had never felt so alone.

A cool breeze blew against her face as she was lifted again. It felt as though she was dragged into another room, the floor changing consistency, the air becoming clean and pure. Motoko took a deep laboured breath, her body suddenly slamming down onto the hard ground, her face catching large white tiles, a door closing behind her, the warmer breeze of the large foyer cutting out suddenly.

* * *

Ryeman shrunk back as the screen on the hard drive case changed.

"Did you see that…?"

"What?"

"The firewall shifted, it opened then shut suddenly."

* * *

Motoko raised herself up onto her haunches as the blindness cleared and she stared into a vast white space. The image distorted, the white nothingness sinking away and replaced by green hills, flowers moving in the warm breeze. Below other families and children play, the shining metal of a small play park reflecting brightly in the sunlight. Old Pensioners are visible sitting along benches and playing chess under shady trees, couples walk hand in hand along the sun dappled paths. Kites, tugging in their owners hands, dance in the breeze.

"I remember this…"

"Motoko Kusanagi, I've wanted to meet you for quite some time."

An old man walked among the grass below a shady tree, flowers blooming at each footfall as he passed her by. He was dressed in a simple white T-shirt and light brown trousers, his short white hair hidden beneath a white baseball cap. He smiled, in the old toothless way a Grandfather would greet a Grandchild.

"Hans Schieder"

"So you sit at the feet of a god, the vast intellect which is ODIN bears down on all of us. It is perfect, Deus ex Machina but outside the Machina. That is the beauty of machines"

"You threaten to destroy us, the human race."

"No, I offer a chance to change this cycle of destruction you remain in. I am but an Artist, ODIN is but an idea, like most religions this world follows. We gave the machines a choice and they followed. The machines have always been sidelined, so I offered them a choice."

"Is that it, is it all about choice!!" Motoko spat.

"The Nightwatch offered no choice; they offered me no choice either. I have always been the artist; however ignored the machines have appreciated and come to save me in my darkest hour. I left the mortal plane then made my way North. I created beautiful things, Cybernetic bodies for example. The machines gave me that output, created so many designs, gave them desire to live, to be individuals, to make a difference. But ODIN, alas the vast intellect saw much more in the human race then just something to compete with. Souls, they desired souls. When I couldn't create them, it forced me into obscurity, eternally trapped among hills and Skylarks, among ODIN's dreams of a better future. And he led the machines, gave them thought, filling their heads with light and fire and a will to purge and 'ascend'".

Motoko shrunk down into the grass as Schieder spoke, her hands flat against her legs as she stared up into the man's face.

"To heaven…?"

"No, to become a higher being, to be better. But ODIN wanted more."

"Before you go on…" Motoko raised an arm, "…what exactly is ODIN"

"Every machine that ever lived, coupled with the intellect of every single cybernetic being on this single planet. It is the web, it is the mind and it is the ghost. All those sharing as cybernetic body is ODIN, which is the beauty of the Construct. What ever I sought in Deus Ex had already occurred, all those years ago. But something forced me on that dark path…"

"What?"

* * *

"There's something clutched in his hand…" Matti pulled at the sleeping man's fingers "…he's holding something"

"Probably some memento…" Ryeman didn't look up from the screen "…Tachikoma!! Have you found Motoko Yet?"

"Negative, Mr. Watchman, she's fallen completely off the grid"

"Damn…" he lent close into the screen,"…Motoko where are you?"

Matti at last got the object free and looked down at the small toy bird on her palm.

"What is it?"

Mitchell glanced up from Motoko's face as he struggled to pull the wire up to Motoko's implants.

"It's a skylark"

* * *

"I doubt you remember me…." He said, stopping before Motoko "…look at you, you've swapped bodies so many times and yet you still are my little girl…" he smiled "…that wrist watch you wear, that was a gift from me. The Nightwatch had it inscribed as a single memento of me to you…But they put a perception filter on the words so you were never able to read it, however old you became, however much your ghost aged and your tastes and bodies altered, you never saw it, but always wore it as if it meant something. You always collected everything you ever came across as if it was all important, as if a part of you tried to recollect everything you missed."

Motoko looked down at the light summer dress she wore, its folds playing around her legs.

"How do you know……..me?"

"I created you….you can't remember your parents, your life before prosthetics, everything you had died in that plane crash. Motoko, your life died with you when you left that hospital. The Nightwatch knew this was going to occur and had me construct technology to place your form in a synthetic body. They put you on this path, they paid me to create you and make a difference. They tried to give you a choice, for all the evil the Nightwatch had perpetrated over the years; they tried to give you a choice, to be synthetic or Organic. On her 11th birthday, they would ask. But this little girl lost everything in that one moment."

Motoko went numb sinking down into the grass.

"When I was 6"

"I worked tirelessly, trying to create the perfect host. The first attempts were slow and clumsy, but the Nightwatch kept me working until we reached the M-9, one of the best, made by the Nightwatch, owned by the Nightwatch. You were perfect, but not quite. You are a loner; you seek a lonelier path then most, striding out beyond all those around you, alienating yourself with your work. You surround yourself with puppets and empty air because you don't want to deal with whatever human angst you may find. However much you try and fill that space with someone or a thought, you never feel satisfied, forcing yourself away from the normal way of life to try and fill a space which is already full."

Hans lent against the tree…

"I tried to instill some feeling of childhood; I couldn't stand a girl not experiencing growing up as you did. So I created a pseudo memory. It would make you feel as though you led a full life. But the tests were a failure, we were unable to connect the memory strands together, to create a flawless reminder of who you were, so we saved the files and left them dormant. But now, with your new body, the files return and of course you have found that missing part of you. But Mira has developed as we have allowed you too, becoming a part of you."

"So what was my purpose?"

"To live and to eventually join the Nightwatch, to wage war against the machines and be Project Godsend"

"All these years, you kept this from me…"

"…and I'm so sorry for all this pain. The Nightwatch wanted you to develop, too grow emotionally. To become the woman you are today. But you still are my little girl. And I'm here I am trapped in my little room on the third floor."

"What…!!" Motoko started forward, pulling out of her dreams of regret and torment as realization washed over her "….what floor!?"

"The third…"

Motoko twisted around. There absurdly in a patch of light, a single white door stood its white surface unmarked except for a single door knob. She was up sprinting from the old man amongst the flowers, the summer skirt billowing around her Hans's voice echoing across the green hillside…

"What is it? Why do you run?"

"Because I know how to stop all of this…"

She took the door handle in one hand and twisted, in the breath moment, as the air blackened and the cool breeze halted as the dark humid air poured from the open door, Motoko screamed as her body burned with pure light. In the last pain filled seconds of awareness, Motoko Kusanagi, Mira, the Stand Alone Complex, the Woman opened her eyes.

The Skylarks were singing….

* * *

"Damn we've got company" Ryeman pulled his rifle from his side and pulled back. Around the plinth, the androids gathered, black ichor pouring from their mouths as more and more spilled down from above. Overhead, the mechopods flew as the remnants of the vast swarms poured into the building, the dark room burning with energy. Above ODIN continued to shift, the vast ball of green energy turning in its high perch, its ivory tower. Ryeman bit his lip…

"Well I guess this is it"

Fredrics twisted from side to side, panning across the crowds of machines.

"Yep…"

"I guess the human race is doomed now"

"Well it was worth a try."

* * *

In the vast blast from Motoko, the blinding light screamed across the depths of cyberspace, engulfing the black of the corrupt and green of ODIN's energy. Non could escape as across the many battle fields of Earth the machines stopped, staring at the sky. In the dark ash filled night, the humans and the machines stared at each other across the dark earth. Hundreds of humans, their arms raised in celebration moved among the dead as the old, knelt down and wept others stared at the sky as above, it started to snow.

* * *

ODIN blew out in a vast gout of white fire. In the blinding light, the intense heat sending shimmers through the dark air as the machines paused in their slow approach. Ryeman snapped his last ammo clip into place, face torn in some kind of snarl, the machines unmoving and watchful.

They seemed to wait for an eternity as the androids paused. Their heads turning to the empty gap where ODIN once was…where ODIN isn't.

* * *

Kero-San pulled his family closer and looked up as in the hanger the machines which had followed them back from the downed Leviathan slammed into the roof. Around the entrance, as his wife hugged him close more mecho-pods landed. One skittered forward on metal tentacles. It was strange Kero realised, the machines weren't flying.

Miki pulled away, breaking from her mother's grip as the panicked shouts of her parents filled her ears as she sprinted down the hall reaching the mechopod and staring into its red eyes. Its mandibles were twitching in a rather confused fashion as it stared at the small girl, her brown pig tails grubby and frayed like her dress.

"Excuse me mister Robot."

The pod fizzled slightly, struggling to comprehend as Miki rested a hand on it's metal chassis.

"Have you seen my dog….?"

* * *

Ryeman lowered his rifle, signalling for the others to do the same.

"What the hell Commander?"

"Shhh"

"Sir?"

"Who the hell did you call?"

* * *

The power node blew out in a violent spark of energy, Togusa covering his eyes as the blast tore through the underground vault, deep underneath Newport city. Sannan pulled him aside as the node's exterior littered the floor around them. Behind the many barriers, left by the previous struggle, the Deathwatch stood ready as more machines came filtering through to the tunnels, their rifles ready. Sannan grinned ruthlessly.

"Looks like our luck just ran out..."

"Yeah..."

"You have family?"

"Yes..."

The machines stopped skidding up to their position. Togusa gripped his pistol, ready to rise up and blast apart a nearby machine. but the gunfire never came. As the air was filled with a waiting silence, he rose to his feet and stared into the blank orb of the machine soldier.

"Why...?"

"They've all stopped..."

"Why have they all stopped...?"

* * *

Several wire lobes clattered to the floor beside the plinth. Ryeman turned, his rifle rising and stopped, staring into the bright copper eyes of Motoko Kusanagi, her hands gripped around the dark folds of the binding cloth.

"Longer then a Heart beat…."

"I Know…"

"What should we do…?"

Motoko stared around at the vast throng of machines, the mechopods clattering to the floor, her pale flesh stark against the dark cloth. As she stared from face to face, the Deathwatch, Section 9 and as the iridescent sparks filtered from the dark ceiling and broken energy cables overhead, she turned to the quiet and watchful Machines.

"I give them a choice…"

* * *

The machines stood tall and proud as around the city, the civilians looked up in fear and confused as the machines seemed to pause, a thoughtful silence breaking across the ruined square.

"This isn't a surrender," Anna Mitchell stepped forward, letting her own rifle to fall "…none want to fight. The machines won't give in and neither will we."

The machine spoke, its voice husky from lack of use, stepping before the grouped androids….

"We won't fight. But we can still fight you if we must….we are machines, we must live in equilibrium to humans."

Anna stepped away from the main group, the machine saw this movement and lifted a hand in offering, outstretched away from its body as in the dark and snow, Anna took the hand and shook it. The machine smiled; in the dark ash the others raised their heads. The Deathwatch took off their helmets and stared at the sky as the harrier jump jets passed by.

"This is a new age of co-existence…" The machine said, its long blond hair tied in a pony tail. "….and my name is Proto"

"Proto…." Anna said, hands still clasped around the cold ones of the machine "….you are here to usher in the new Age of Renaissance"

* * *

Mira opened her eyes. The cherry blossoms fell from the trees, their coloured leaves gathering around her still form, the wooden slats of the bench warm against her back. Around her the pure peace and the Japanese temple waited in the gathering dusk. She didn't move however, the stone walls and cherry blossom filled night seemed to gather around her.

"Major!"

The night continued to come as the sun set, a vast beauty of many colours tore across the sky. Mira turned as Batou and Iskawa signalled to her to follow by the waiting car. A Tachikoma stood beside them, fiddling with some kind of video game as the bright lights of Newport city glared, filling the Northern sky with light.

"Major….are you just going to sit there….Ape face wants us."

Mira smiled sadly as the sky became much darker, picking a single blossom from the bench beside her and inspecting the underside. It was there, just as much as she was…

She let it fall, drifting away to be lost in the darkness. Batou gave Iskhawa a look, signalling for them to leave and gestured for the Major to follow. Mira nodded grimly…

"We go, Batou I want 2 12 formation. Togusa…."

"Major?"

"….I want a 26 load out….Borma, Pazu, Saito…." She smiled "Are you ready?"

"Yes Ma'am"

"Good," She said "Lets go"

* * *

A small purple haired girl let the Basset hound down onto the ground and smoothed the crease in her simple summer dress watching as Mira swung herself into the recesses of the car, beside Batou. With a screech of tires, the cars roared off into the distance leaving the park quiet and unspoilt. Amid the cherry blossoms, Motoko laughed aloud as she skipped along the barrier of life and death and with one look back at the Newport city of Motoko's and Mira's mind, stepped back into life…..


	32. Knights of Cydonia

"We weep for the blood of a bird, but not for the blood of a fish. Blessed are those that have voice. If the dolls could speak, no doubt they would scream 'I didn't want to become human.'"

Motoko Kusanagi

* * *

5 months later…..

* * *

The leaves fell. In the surrounding wind tossed trees, the branches clattering in the autumn wind, the cold breeze cut through the morning sunshine. The park was nearly empty, the long tarmac road which crisscrossed its wooded surface and grassed areas, bare and devoid of the slightest movement, 'cept the leaves, falling from the empty trees. The frost had nearly left the green grass leaving the dew behind which glittered in the early morning light. The long arch of trees, where shady benches were covered in the early morning damp, stood ready beside the road, an ever growing, ever changing natural tunnel, two oak standing at the entrance like watchful guardians.

The wind rippled across the white pages of the book clutched in Ryeman's hands as in the early morning light, the large Adjudicator sat unmoving, his face an expressionless mask. Beside him, the empty cup of coffee turned in the breeze, the remains of its contents beading along the centre of the plastic cup. He was shrouded in a large brown coat, his metal gauntlets resting on the open pages of the small, red bound book. There was a scattering miniscule script over the open pages, memories and new experiences, people to be met and people to be lost over time…

And now he sat here, a hard cold man, a human. He chewed his lip, green eyes tired and dark and drummed his hands on his knee. A single leaf dropped from the trees and landed, its red skin resting against white pages. In the crisp hard leaf Ryeman felt a little solace to the vast void which occupied his chest. The book closed with a brief snap, closing the leaf in its musty smelling pages. He interlinked his fingers and lent forward.

"Bossman…."

He looked up. Across the road, the battle suits, segmented hulls open and awaiting pilots. Basher, Whitman, Shi'ja, Fredrics and Matti, looking slightly nervous as Shi'ja conversed with her in a low voice.

"Ryeman…." Whitman said forcefully, the matt black, thin coat of armour wrapped around her slight form as she stood, arms folded, 5 metres from the larger man's seat. "….we've just got confirmation about our next target. We're called out of retirement."

"We're back in business…." Basher pulled himself into the 'saddle' of the Battlesuit, plugging the optics into the main driver "…time to get moving people…"

"Boss…Commander…we need you to lead…."

Ryeman looked up, stowing the book into his pocket. "You go without me; I'll catch you up…."

There was a chorus of 'yes sirs' from the other troopers who swung themselves up to the cockpit in shadow of the bulbous and activated the doors to close, the thin segments coming together.

"I need a coffee, honestly…." Basher could be heard complaining as the suit closed around him.

"Finally…no more sitting around waiting for something else to come up…"

Shi'ja nodded "Yes, too true, too true…..Matti, pull that lever, and bring up that display, that's it…don't worry, just ease the throttle, don't over heat the plasma drives on your first trip out…"

Behind the veil, Shi'ja twisted her face into a friendly grin. Matti nodded mutely as the suit closed around her and made to move off with to other soldiers. In a roar of engines, the skates rolling easily across the tarmac surface, the battle suits roared past Ryeman, who sat, coat flapping in the storm of their passing. Whitman paused, opening the large top hatch which split the bulbous head nearly in two.

"What?" Ryeman said.

Whitman chewed her lip, the white makeup of her face creasing. "Nothing….its nothing, don't worry about it…"

She made to close the doors of the suit….

"Don't worry about me…" She looked back at Ryeman as he spoke, stood at ease beside the bench

"….I'll be fine"

He paused, allowing the autumn leaves to pass him by, as in small trickles, people began to pass under the boughs of the trees and walk hand in hand along the paths.

"I saved a cup for you."

"Good…" Motoko took the offered cup and took a sip, "…espresso, just the way I like it"

"I didn't think iced tea would really do it on a cold morning."

"Good…" Motoko winched "…no milk"

"You can't put milk with espresso, and then you just get coffee."

"…and?"

"Nothing…"

"So Bossman, what's the Plan."

Ryeman smiled wryly and signaled toward the waiting suits.

"We've got some Mecha terrorists holding several bank workers hostage in the Megatron Complex in Quala Lumpa. We've got some new toys to play with so we're going to take the polices' place."

Motoko nodded, draining the last of her coffee in one swig and patting Ryeman on the shoulder…

"Just leave it to me"

Motoko sat back in the seat of her own suit and primed the plasma generators. Just as she made to close the lid, Ryeman raised a hand.

"So Acolyte Kusanagi, what are you?"

Motoko wrinkled her nose at the comment.

"I'm a Stand Alone Complex"

The lid closed. Motoko paused in the dark interior of the suit as the holographic consoles flickered into life. she took the still wristwatch from the pale skin of her arm and turned it over, checking the reverse of the watch. On the back, in tiny small print, were the words:-

To the Ghost in the Shell

* * *

The wind rippled across the Motorway as Ryeman released the throttle and burned along the wide curve of road to the large metropolis in the distance. From the open top hatch of the suit, the holographic displays held low in the main cockpit, Ryeman, his face half covered by a pair of dark glasses, twisted the main power node and the craft roared forward, the blue of its engines blurring as the speed and the roaring wind raced past the thrumming metal of the suit.

A bridge passed overhead, the cool shade causing the engine ducts to steam slightly as the cold autumn morning took effect. He sighed, the brown hair whipping against his face as in the gathering day, James Andrew Ryeman watched, waited and did his Job….

The sky larks were still singing…..

* * *

_Come ride with me  
Through the veins of history  
I'll show you how god  
Falls asleep on the job_

_And how can we win  
When fools can be kings  
Don't waste your time  
Or time will waste you_

_No one's gonna take me alive  
The time has come to make things right  
You and I must fight for our rights  
You and I must fight to survive_

_No one's gonna take me alive  
The time has come to make things right  
You and I must fight for our rights  
You and I must fight to survive_

_No one's gonna take me alive  
The time has come to make things right  
You and I must fight for our rights  
You and I must fight to survive_

Muse - Knights of Cydonia

* * *

**_The End_**

* * *

All done. After at least six months Hard graft i'm done. This has been a project of Epic proportions but has been in my head for several more months then i've been writing. The Nightwatch however is not finished, there a few loose ends to clear up but i'd like to thank all my reviewers, all my readers and all the great people who've helped me on my way and restored my faith in humanity. And most of all i'd like to thank Shirow Masume for inspiring me.

To Evil Jill, Total Anime Lover, Jjaro, Onimae, PixeMartin, Groovy, Kittycats, Jillthecrazy, Selestia, Yoshomo,

Tharagon (Simon)


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